


Seven Days of Link Vrains-mas

by Lilyliegh



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: (little mini quests for the seasonal event), Alternate Universe - Link Vrains, Datastorm December 2018, Established Relationship, Gamers, Holidays, M/M, Mystery, Quests, Secret Identity, Undercover as a Couple, Virtual Reality, Winter, Winter fun, no one knows playmaker and revolver's identities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-15 16:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16937085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyliegh/pseuds/Lilyliegh
Summary: Yuusaku and Ryouken have never hidden their romantic relationship among their friends, but in Link Vrains, they're strictly friends or rivals, nothing more. Yet at the peak of a festive, wintry celebration, SOL Technologies hosts a seven-day, couples-only event with a prized in-game reward that Yuusaku can't resist. Teaming up, the two of them set off to win the grand prize through a series of zany quests and missions.If only SOL Technologies didn't have a secret agenda.Written for Datastorm December 2018.





	1. DLC

**Author's Note:**

> it's another datastorm fic from me! i've somehow managed to twist the seven Datastorm December prompts into this fic, so for day one, this is "oversized sweater." that said, while this is based on daily prompts, it's a connected, seven-chapter fic with some intrigue and plot! hope you enjoy!

"Seven Days of Link Vrains-mas: A SOL Technologies Winter Special." Yuusaku stares down at the festive virtual world before him, and only one word can come to mind.

"Why?"

Link Vrains has been Christmas-fied. Or winter-fied. Either way, the virtual dueling utopia looks nothing like it did yesterday before the overnight patch that transformed it from a typical futuristic world to a winter wonderland. Garland twists and twirls between red- and green-lit lamp posts. Wreaths hang on every door. All across the city are banners and posters celebrating winter and Christmas and the various festivities the season brings. And of course, the duelists are no less festive too. SOL Technologies must have added some free add-ons to dress everyone up in red and green outfits or to make sparkles flutter from their duel disks.

In one night, the virtual city has undergone a massive change.

Yuusaku glares sullenly at the holly bushes lining the pavement.

"You don't like it?" Ryouken says. "It's a strategic marketing campaign." He taps a finger to the touchscreen of his duel disk and sparkles shoot out out like a firecracker. He presses the same button twice, and this time snowflakes circle around them.

Yuusaku glances down at his old duel disk. To his surprise, even archaic technology is compatible with the new add-ons. He rolls his eyes. Put it to Zaizen Akira to make everyone a part of this commercialist holiday.

"Looks like it's a hit, at least," Ryouken comments.

"Of course it is," Yuusaku says. "It's just pointless too."

"War on Christmas?"

"Or something ..." Already, he's planning on venting to Kusanagi about it—the only shopkeeper in all of Den City who doesn't have sales or promotions for the winter season. Last year, he and Kusanagi spent the season avoiding the commercialised cheer and altogether bemoaning about how Christmas is just another day for couples to overindulge and compete to spoil each other, all the while raking in massive profits for companies.

"It does look quite over-the-top," Ryouken says with a laugh.

In front of them bursts a small, holographic screen that typically displays the current events of Link Vrains, including the weather and hit news, and any major attractions, events, or raids hosted both by SOL Technologies or by other duelists. Today, with the launch of the new patch, there is a laundry list of events going on. He drags down through the event selection until a particularly bright and gaudy one catches his eye.

"Seven Days of Link Vrains-mas."

"The official event," Ryouken says. He taps Yuusaku's screen and the view changes to the event's main page: a week-long mission where duelists compete for points to receive various awards. At the bottom tiers are basic trash items: modifiers to change their avatar outfits to red and green, little tokens to spend on frivolous holiday junk. The mid-tiers are just as unappealing: some more tokens, a couple super-rare cards, modifiers for their D-Boards.

He freezes at the top tier.

"The Grand Prize Couple will receive one million in-game tokens to spend on any events or rewards, a unique title, a legendary card, and access to a private event hosted by SOL Technologies." Ryouken smiles at him. "A legendary card, huh?"

Yuusaku's heart thumps in his chest. If he's any sort of duelist in Link Vrains, he's a collector. A completionist. He's completed every single quest from every event, including the glitchy-as-fuck summer extravaganza from two years ago. He's suffered through the ups and downs of Link Vrains all to get the rare cards and titles, and now with the Christmas event ... he can add to his collection.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryouken's smile widens. "Wouldn't that look great in your collection menu?"

"It's something to do," Yuusaku says. He itches the side of his avatar's skintight suit, refusing to make eye contact.

"How difficult would it be to get the grand title?"

"Easy if it were the two of us." During the Halloween event, he and Ryouken both completed the event in a couple days. This time would be no different. They'd have to pace themselves, as it appears this event is a continuous seven-day challenge as opposed to the get-the-tokens quest they finished by binge-playing for three days straight. Still, Yuusaku knows they could do it.

"Then let's do it."

His heart leaps into his chest, and he only stops himself from smiling like an idiot by having to accept the challenge. The title screen changes from a still-shot of a holiday banner to a holographic recording for Blue Angel in a bright, Santa-inspired dress: red velvet trimmed with white, cloud-like cotton. A red and white hat balances on the side of her head, leaning into one of her curly twin-tails.

_"Merry Christmas, duelists, and welcome to the first Seven Days of Link Vrains-mas Holiday Challenge. This is Link Vrains' own Blue Angel speaking! Hi!"_

The Blue Angel avatar bounces up and down like a kid hopped-up on candy, twintails fluttering on either side of her. Yuusaku wonders just what Akira bribed his sister with to get her to appear in this advertisement. Surely Aoi didn't want to appear as the covergirl for Link Vrains, right? In high school, she refused to even be in their school play.

_"This holiday challenge is an optional event for any duelists who would like to take part in a festive celebration. You must be a couple—that is, two duelists on a team—to join the event. Added to your main menu is the challenge option: check it out to see your progress. Each day at midnight there will be a new quest; complete quests to obtain the day's Christmas Token. At the end of the event, Tokens can then be exchanged for various rewards depending on how many you collected. There are seven tiers, each with their own unique rewards; tiers stack, so remember to aim high. Duelists who collect all seven Christmas Tokens will receive the Grand Prize: a title for the winning couple and an invitation to an exclusive in-game event hosted by SOL Technologies._

_"For more information, please check out the detailed FAQ from the challenge menu, or use the Help function to speak to a SOL Technologies representative. And remember, have fun!"_

With a wink and a smile, Blue Angel's hologram disappears. The city looks even busier now, and crowded too. Just how were they able to hear her introduction over the noise of hundreds of duelists logging into Link Vrains and watching the same trailer.

A small dialogue box pops in front of Yuusaku.

"Revolver" would like to be your partner for the Seven Days of Link Vrains-mas.

Through the semi-transparent graphics, he sees Ryouken's grinning avatar. Without his mask on, he looks much more human—well, as human as someone can be with a bullet hanging from their ear and hair jetting up into unrealistic proportions.

Yuusaku accepts the invitation. The dialogue box fizzles away, only to reappear as a small flashing notification in the corner of his duel disk. The challenge menu has changed too: it shows his progress for their various days, as well as the the daily challenge to achieve each Token. To his dismay, there is no option to see the future events, meaning that each night they'll have to wake up and begin the challenge blind to whatever ideas SOL Technologies has whipped up. As much as he hopes it's the same find-the-tokens challenges from the previous events, a feeling in his gut tells him that this year Link Vrains has taken on a special mission.

He closes the dialogue box and glances around the city. Most duelists seem to be heading towards the city centre where the main stage is. During non-event days, the area is the hub spot for duelists to hang out and chat, much like a regular city's square. No doubt Blue Angel will be there debuting a new song or dance, and various sales will be on encouraging duelists to spend real money buying virtual items.

Carefully, Yuusaku tilts his head back. Even the sky of Link Vrains has changed. Soft snow tumbles from the roof of the virtual world and down onto the islands. Magically, none of it lands on his head or shoulders no matter where he moves.

"The first event challenge must be up there."

Ryouken blinks at him. "What?"

"Up there," Yuusaku says. Link Vrains is but a series of islands connected to a vertical tower; the main island where they log into rests in the middle, and above them stretches various smaller hubs for PVP dueling or collecting or simply exploring. In the past, these areas have all been mediocre at best, and never before has an event or patch ever modified those areas. But Yuusaku sees the snow tumbling from up above. SOL Technologies has hidden something up there.

"The first mission has to be on top: why else would there be snow?"

"Because they added a winter modifier to the programming?"

"Because this event will use all of Link Vrains."

Realisation dawns in Ryouken's bright blue eyes. "Do you think there's a countdown on the event then? Will the Token be up there, or will we have to camp the area waiting for it to spawn?"

Yuusaku shrugs his shoulders, already mounting his D-Board. "Either way, we'll be the first one up there, ready for when the quest drops. Might as well start exploring while everyone hangs around for the opening ceremonies."

"Don't want to be part of the crowd?"

He revs the board's engine. It thrums beneath him like a shadowed beast ready to spring on its prey.

"Of course."

He takes off through the skies without another word. All at once the world turns silent as he passes through a layer of thick clouds, reappearing at the tip of the next platform. Not a single duelist in sight. The snow tumbles from up above, this time catching on his arms and board. He shivers at the first touch and spins around. Ryouken bursts through the clouds after him, sending white puffs everywhere. Whereas the snow stands out against Yuusaku's pink and yellow hair, it blends into Ryouken's frosty white outfit. He looks like an angelic hero with a single stripe of red through his hair.

"Feels like we're actually in winter."

He holds back a strong shiver. The air up here is already more frigid, nipping the exposed skin of his nose and cheeks. His breath comes out in faint, misty pants. It even feels sharp against his lungs, as if he—not his avatar, but his human body—has been transported to the Arctic. For a hologram, this seems far too advanced for SOL Technologies who still struggle to remember the details of Monster Effects.

He revs his board forward, up through the next cloud barrier and towards the higher islands. With each level they ascend to, the air gets colder and the world quieter. The clock on his duel disk reads that there's at least another hour to go before the official details of the event will appear. Even if he and Ryouken don't find the Token by that time, they'll be closer than anyone else and able to get it before the crowd of everyday duelists barrels in trying to solve the world's easiest mental math problem.

At last, they break the final cloud barrier and appear at the top of the Link Vrains tower. Sure enough, the final island is completely remodeled for the winter event: snow blankets the ground, dusted with sparkles from the sunshine. Not a single cloud is in sight, not even a snowflake fluttering in the sky. The island is so quiet that the crunch of the snow under his feet echoes all around him.

And it's _cold!_

Yuusaku hunches forward with a violent shiver. Though the sun is bright and the sky clear, that only makes the virtual world _colder._ With no clouds to insulate the heat, it escapes before it can properly heat the air or snow. And of course, while SOL Technologies took every precaution to make the world a beautiful winter wonderland, they also included the realistic chill of the snow and wind.

"You're right," Ryouken says, teeth chattering. "This must be the place."

Yuusaku clenches his jaw else his teeth will shatter together with the force of his chattering. He rubs the thin material of his suit, wishing he could return to the milder weather of Link Vrains. Surely winter never felt this cold, right? Or perhaps this is part of the challenge: survive the subzero weather.

Ryouken shuffles his feet back and forth, and then with a soft _pop!,_ he says, "Oh. So this is what it's for."

"What was is ... wai—"

Ryouken flops the baggy sleeves of a warm, albeit _tacky, holiday_ sweater back and forth. The colours alone make Yuusaku gag: red and green, both dark, muddied shades, knitted together using thick yarn. Pasted onto the centre is a large Christmas tree made of various patterned cloths, and around the tree are sparkling _puffballs_ sewn on with the tiniest string of thread. The puffballs move every time Ryouken moves or breathes. He has to admit Ryouken looks devilishly _good_ in the sweater, but the fact still remains that he's _wearing it in the first place._

Ryouken's smile twists into a teasing smirk, the likes of which Yuusaku only sees when Ryouken has him trapped in the corner like a mouse. "This sweater is quite warm, don't you think? If you're cold, you should wear it."

"Over my dead body."

Smirk widens. "Suit yourself."

He marches off the side of his board and lands in the crunchy virgin snow. In the tacky sweater, he stands out even more.

Yuusaku shivers with his toes in the cold, hands tucked under his armpits for warmth. "We s-should look for the Token," he says, trying to keep the wobble out of his words.

"Probably in the centre of the island," Ryouken replies. "This is the first challenge, after all: it can't be too difficult or all the newbies will give up before they can even get the complimentary prize."

Yuusaku marches after him. The wind howls past his ears and tugs at his hair. He remembers scrolling through the character modifications: hats and sweaters mainly, neither of which he'll be seen wearing. Couldn't Akira have come up with some _normal_ add-ons like hats and gloves without Christmas trees or Santa faces on them. Better yet, modify the weather so it only _looks_ like winter rather than feels like it.

He keeps his lips tightly closed as they head into the middle of the island. Sure enough, they spot a glowing beacon floating above the pristine snow. It displays a small hologram of the event's emblem—a snowflake made up of cut-out hearts with the initials VR in the centre. They huddle around it as if it were a mini campfire, and then Ryouken touches his hand to it.

_"Both partners, please press the snowflake."_

Yuusaku presses his finger through it.

_"Congratulations! Please enter your couple name to begin the challenge."_

His lips push forward into a frown. "We didn't sign up for the challenge already?"

"Must be a new step," Ryouken says. "What's our couple name? Revyuu? Revmaker?"

"Datastorm." He blurts it out, only blushing once he realises what he's said. "Or Revyuu."

"Datastorm it is," Ryouken says, and even with his deep, baritone voice, his singsong tone makes butterflies in Yuusaku's stomach. Ryouken types the name out and the machine spits out a small ticket for them, no bigger than a business card.

_"On this island there are three tasks you must complete to receive your reward. Please find the detailed instructions enclosed in your ticket. When all three are completed, return here to receive your Token. Thank you and Merry Vrains-mas!"_

"Merry what?" Yuusaku mumbles.

"Vrains-mas," Ryouken says with a chuckle. "Gotta make profit from every angle. Akira, that bastard." He twirls the card between his long, slim fingers and then reads the tasks aloud. "Find the Token on the pillar, the Token in the music box, and then Token in the heart."

"A riddle?" Yuusaku blurts out, and then quickly adds, "No, a clue. There wouldn't be a riddle, not for the very first day."

Ryouken nods his head in agreement. "We should wander around and look for all three: a pillar, a music box, and a heart. They shouldn't even be off this island." He steps forward, but hesitates to keep moving. "You warm?"

"Am I—" He cuts himself off with a violent shiver.

Ryouken's smile widens. "There's a sweater in your inventory."

"Thank you for your concern," Yuusaku says, spiting the words out from his pale, cracked lips, "but I am _fine."_ He stomps ahead through the pristine snow. Thin ice crackles beneath his boots; while waterproof, he can feel the chill seeping into his bones. More than anything he'd love a warm jacket, not a tacky holiday sweater. No fucking way.

Just as Ryouken predicted, the first clue is just a stone's throw away from the main spot. The pillar, made of dark stone, shoots up from the white snow like a spear in the ground. Just as they approach it, the pillar shoots up an extra ten feet into the air—not far, but out of reach for one of them. By the time they stand before it he realises that they won't be able to reach, or jump up, for whatever lies atop the pillar.

Sighing, he clicks the D-Board button on his duel disk.

Nothing.

He presses again. Did the system glitch because everyone else has hopped onto their boards and flown up to the highest island? No, the announcement shouldn't be for another forty-five minutes.

"Deactivated," Ryouken says. He laughs weakly. "They couldn't make it too easy for us, huh?"

He glances from side to side. Though cold and snowy, the area around the pillar is barren: if he needed momentum, he could run towards the pillar and leap up to it. But still, the pillar seems taller than any height either he or Ryouken could jump up to, and both of them are relatively tall.

He brushes his hand over the pillar. No grooves or scratches, no pinpad or puzzle to solve. No way to climb up it or bring it down, and judging by the weight, no way to blast it to pieces either.

"Ryouken, lend me a hand."

"Hm?"

"This is a couple's event, so naturally the activities would require you to work as a team. If I stand on your shoulders, I should be able to reach it."

He crouches down for him. Carefully, Yuusaku swings a leg round Ryouken's shoulders, settling one leg on either side of him, and using his head as a handhold. Once he's in position, Ryouken rises to full height. Yuusaku braces a hand against the pole to steady them both. They rise like an eagle ... and tumble like a newborn giraffe. His forehead collides with the pole, and Ryouken's hip slams into the base. Yuusaku wraps his arms around the pillar in a tight bear-hug and clings until Ryouken has regained his balance and no longer feels like he'll land bottom-first onto the ground.

Only then does Yuusaku let go of the pole.

"Steady," Ryouken says.

Yuusaku kicks a heel at Ryouken's chest. "Steady? Keep your balance."

Ryouken grumbles something unintelligible. He tilts his head back, and for a second their eye smeet. Then: "Can you reach what's on top?"

Yuusaku stretches an arm up, feeling around the smooth area for a stone, a piece of paper, anything that would be hidden. His fingers catch round a small coin and he snatches it up in his palm. Expecting the pillar to put up more of a challenge, he wrenches his arm free and back—and feels his weight fall behind him too. Before he can even latch onto the pillar once more, he and Ryouken flip and tumble to the ground. Though snowy, the icy sheet beneath the fluff packs quite the punch.

"Ouch ..." He rubs at his head and neck. The coin, still tucked within his palm, feels like a meagre reward for the painful fall he just too.

Underneath him, Ryouken grumbles and rolls out of the way. He rubs at his own face, snow clinging to his dusty bangs. Surprisingly, the snow is as white as his hair: he looks softer and fluffier, and Yuusaku lets out a short chuckle.

"Time?" Ryouken says, shaking out his hair.

"Thirty minutes."

"Plenty of time. The next activity must be there."

Not ten feet away from them is another pillar. Yuusaku remembers seeing not even a dip in the snow, so the pillar must have appeared after he received the coin. Sure enough, as they approach, he notes the snow bundled around the base of the stone. He anticipates the pillar shooting up into the air, but in the time it takes them to brush themselves off and wander over, the pillar doesn't budge.

Inlaid on the surface of the pillar are three coloured keys; a second set of keys, identical to the first, rests across from it. Between the sets of keys is a sheet of paper with several coloured dots: blue, red, blue, blue, yellow.

"Play the melody?" Yuusaku thinks. With a shrug, he taps the keys. Blue, re—

Snow plummets down the back of his jacket. His back arches up, a single gasp catching in his lungs. The snow runs the length down his back before toppling down on the ground, but the icy chill remains, sinking deeper into his bones. He jumps to rid it, and then spins around. Ryouken wouldn't _dare_ do it, but then who? Another duelist trying to complete the activity first? A security feature—

"Yuusaku, it's fine."

"S-snow," he gasps out.

"Must be an anti-measure." Ryouken glances from the keys to the paper. "Two sets of them—that means we have to play this together."

""You go, then I go?"

"Looks like it."

Yuusaku shivers. It makes sense considering the last activity required a partner. He supposes the introduction the rest of the duelists must be getting would contain these clues, but still—does that mean everyone must have a partner? And that they must work together? He's fortunate he and Ryouken are rarely at each other's throats, unlike if he and Naoki were together, or gosh forbid he and _Spectre_ on the same team.

Shivering once more, he re-takes his place before the pillar, hands at the ready. Ryouken adjusts the paper between them, and then meets his eyes. Intense. Ryouken never plays to lose, never fumbles.

Blue.

Blue—

"Shit!"

The words barely register in his ears before snow falls down his jacket for the second time. This time, Ryouken gets the penalty too, and rather than hiss and gasp, he swears loudly and tears his jacket off. Snow flies through the air, only to clump with the ice and snow around them. If anything, he only looks colder with the jacket off and snow dampening his once-pointed hair.

"Not that either," Yuusaku mumbles.

"No shit."

Yuusaku snatches up the paper and inspects it once more. Is there a clue? A secret hidden within this? Do they need to see the opening ceremony to know how to complete this activity? His hand ghosts over the keys, and he hears the ice crack around him.

"Be careful."

"I'm looking," he says, nose mushed into the pamphlet. "What are we supposed to do if we're not supposed to play in sync? ... in sync. In sync." He snaps the paper down. "Together, Ryouken. We're supposed to play it together!"

Ryouken scrunches his nose up like a kid served a bad food. "Did that sappy brat Hayami design this or something?"

Rolling his eyes, Yuusaku returns to his position once more, fingers over the keys. By now, he's memorised the pattern. He and Ryouken need to play together and press the keys _at the same time._

It sounds easy, but two tries and two snow-down-jacket experiences later, he and Ryouken are back to grumbling and groaning.  
  
"Is this really worth the card?" Ryouken asks.   
  
"I know we're doing it right." Yuusaku clenches his teeth against the oncoming chill. They have fifteen minutes to get this right which means they've spent fifteen minutes standing around the same pillar getting dunked with disgusting, white slush. It hardly feels like snow by this point; his skin is littered in goosebumps.   
  
"We must be doing something wrong."   
  
"We're—" He braces himself as a shiver wracks through his body. Really, did SOL Technologies have to make the cold so life-like? He feels like he truly is in the Arctic. "We're not in sync; we have to do it together at exactly the same time. Once .... once more."   
  
He expects Ryouken to stomp away; failure never sits well with him. At the very least, he expects resistance in any way, shape, or form. But Ryouken grumbles at hovers his finger over the first blue key in waiting. "Count down."   
  
Yuusaku braces his finger over the key. He counts—three, two, one—and slams his finger down on the key. Rather than the slight whoosh of snow falling from the sky, ready to make contact with his bare skin, he hears the chime of a bell. Then nothing. No snow, no more bells. Realising he's closed his eyes, he cracks one open to see what disaster they've created. No disaster. Only the glowing keys before them and the sound of their ragged pants.   
  
"I've got it."   
  
Across the table, Ryouken's face glows. "Again."   
  
They hold their fingers over the red key. Yuusaku counts once more, then plunges his hand down. Again, a chime. And again. The rhythm, while snow, remains: prepare, count, press key; rinse and repeat. The chill down his spine briefly disappears as he and Ryouken follow through the activity until the last chime sounds like a victory bell in their frozen, red ears.   
  
"Mission complete."   
  
The surface of the pillar flips over like a lid to reveal the token below.   
  
Ryouken snatches it up. "Got you, you bastard."   
  
Yuusaku smothers his laughter behind a fist before Ryouken sees, but in the corner of his eye he catches Ryouken's own red face.   
  
"Mission complete," he echoes. "Now just one more."   
  
He glances around the once-empty island.. There are still no people, not for another ten minutes, but the heavily-fallen snow has faded away to the sight of a clear, beautiful space. Both pillars stand resolute, and in the distance, he spots a wedge of dark stone.   
  
"Third one."   
  
"Let's hope it's not another game like that."   
  
Yuusaku can't help himself: "Too difficult for you?"   
  
"Too annoying."   
  
At the third pillar, to their luck, are no keyboard keys, nor does the pillar shoot up into the air like a rocket. It stays still, buried into the snow, and on its surface is a single sheet of paper.   
  
"To complete this mission," Ryouken reads aloud, "you must declare on this sacred ground the person who you love the most." As soon as the words leave his mouth, he pinches his face together. "Seriously, did a lovesick teen write this? What kind of activity is this?"   
  
"Something barely worth getting the Token for," Yuusaku mutters. Even he has to agree, this holiday event feels a bit too lopsided on the romance idea.   
  
"We have to say it to each other."   
  
"We do."   
  
"Even if we'd never say it to each other in our lives."   
  
"We do."   
  
Ryouken sinks his teeth into his lip. "Fine. For you. I love you, Yuusaku."   
  
"And for you. I love you, Ryouken."   
  
He lets out a breath when the machine trills at him—thank goodness they don't have to say it in a sappy voice or embrace their partner or do who knows what other kind of mushy couple-y stuff that he and Ryouken would hardly dream of doing.   
  
"Made by teenagers," Ryouken grumbles, snatching up the final token. It makes a satisfied clink with the other Token. Yuusaku passes the first Token to him. With the three of them gathered in his open palm, Ryoken's duel disk surges to life and chimes like a broken coo-coo clock. Then, in the blink of an eye, the Tokens disappear and register on a holographic screen before them.   
  
"Mission success!" the computer crows.   
  
"Finally," Yuusaku mutters.   
  
Ryouken snaps closed the tab before the automated voice can drone on about the next day's activities. "That's enough of that."   
  
"Thanks." Yuusaku shuffles his feet in the cold snow.   
  
"Hm?"   
  
"For doing this event even if you don't care about the reward. It's nice." He clears his throat, tucking his hands into the thin sleeves of his skinsuit. As cold as he feels, his cheeks burn the snowflakes clumped around his hair.   
  
"You look like you're going to freeze to death."   
  
Huffing, he shoves his hands under his armpits. "I'm not wearing that sweater."   
  
"Suit yourself. I happen to think it's trendy." Sweeping to the side, Ryouken heads off through the snow. Yuusaku stumbles after him. The quicker they get out of this winter wasteland, the better. Or, better yet ...   
  
He drops his weight to the side, face mushing into the fuzzy sweater fabric. Ryouken steadies him, a deep laugh bubbling in his throat.   
  
"It would be warmer at home, don't you think?"   
  
"Hm?"   
  
"The daily event is over," Yuusaku continues, dragging a single finger down Ryouken's chest, past his stomach; even through the thick, woollen fabric, he feels tight abs. "There's no reason to stay here."   
  
"Is there something better at home perhaps?"   
  
He buries his smirk in Ryouken's chest. "Maybe."   
  
Eyes closed, he doesn't see where he ends up. But he hears Ryouken's rumbling purr and the rough, throaty sound of his laugh. "Then we shall have to see."


	2. FARMING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for datastorm december day 02: mistletoe kiss & three things.   
> also please feel free to leave a comment if you'd like -- i love answering questions and comments!! >w<

_ Sleep is for the weak,  _ Yuusaku thinks as he crouches in front of his laptop. There's no point of logging in earlier than midnight unless he wants to brace himself for whatever new weather installments SOL Technologies has added to the system; he felt enough of that earlier today when he and Ryouken searched for the three missing Tokens. Now, he sits comfortably in his cosy, plain sweater, hands tucked into the sleeve and the cowl neck pulled up to his chin.

He hears Ryouken's rumbling chuckle before he appears at his side holding two steaming mugs of coffee. "I do agree that it's best that we get the events done in the morning while everyone else is still asleep ... but even I have to admit this is rather hardcore."

Yuusaku takes a deep sip of the coffee. "The fewer people online, the better." He eyes the corner of the screen—still fifteen minutes to go until the new event drops. As the first three days should be jam-packed with people flocking to the new event, he and Ryouken have elected to play in the early hours of the morning while most duelists are asleep. As grown adults, they have the advantage over high-schoolers who would need to go to bed early to wake up for classes ... not that school would have stopped him, of course.

At the corner of his screen appears a small notification.

"Takeru?" Ryouken asks.

"Naoki." There's a groupchat with everyone in it. Naoki still doesn't know his identity as Playmaker, and the only time Yuusaku has dueled Naoki was when he played as a normal NPC with a basic deck. Still Naoki invites him along to various missions and quests. This time is no different.

_ Fujiki! Let's get the Token! I missed the first one, so I'll help you get the second! _

He frowns. Just how does Naoki plan on helping him if he missed the first Token event?

_ I'll pass,  _ he types.  _ I'm just heading to bed. _

"Liar."

Yuusaku nudges him with his shoulder. "Not the first time, and he'd honestly be better without my help. He focuses more when he's not fawning over Playmaker or boasting about his own deck."

"Overconfidence is the Achilles' Heel of duelists." Ryouken taps the clock with his finger. "We should go."

He closes down the chat. Hand ghosting over his duel disk, he waits for Ryouken to get his disk. Then they log in together, hearts and minds in sync. Light flashes in Yuusaku's eyes and then he lands neatly into his avatar's body. A chill runs down his spine—it's still subzero in Link Vrains—and at night, the air seems even colder. It burns in his lungs. Hastily, he blows on his fingertips and rubs his legs together to create some sort of warming friction.

"They really went all out this winter," Ryouken says. The tacky Christmas sweater still hangs over his toned form, mocking Yuusaku shivering in his skintight suit. 

As the clock strikes midnight, a dialogue box pops out from thin air. Just like with the first day, the mission appears emblazoned with the title screen of the event, followed by a series of instructions on how to claim today's Token. On one side is a map of a long, windy tunnel; and on the other side is the objective: find three pieces of mistletoe.

"Another search mission?" They already completed one of those on day one, and though they're more exciting than quests involving non-playable characters and conversation, he'd rather not wander around a cave looking for mistletoe. Not to mention that he knows plenty well the uses of mistletoe around the holidays.

"Guess they ran out of mission ideas. Still." Ryouken leaps into the air, landing down on his sleek D-Board. "We're ahead of the game tonight, so either way this should be no problem for us."

Agreed. Yesterday they were fortunate they skipped the tutorial and introduction and found the items before everyone else appeared; according to Takeru, the first day was a mess of newbies trying to figure out their D-Boards and beginner duelists trying to determine how to climb atop the pillar to collect the Token. Yuusaku neglected to mention how much trouble he and Ryouken had with that particular activity. 

He hops onto his own board and glides after Ryouken. Beneath him is empty space, not a single duelist in sight. Link Vrains is peaceful at this hour; all the loud young'uns are asleep, and even the loud adults have retired. Anyone who is still online is either preoccupied with a duel or, like Yuusaku and Ryouken, appreciating the peace and quiet.

They drift across the sky like silent eagles. At the sight of Link Vrains' own Stardust Road, Ryouken drops down and glides his board over the unmoving waters. The lip of his board creates miniature ripples that disturb the clear view of the stars in the sea, and yet the sight of the water still takes the breath out of Yuusaku. Somehow, there is a Stardust Road here. Somehow, SOL Technologies saw it important to include the stars in the seawater.

In the corner of his vision, he spots his in-game map. The beginning of the mission starts across Stardust Road, on a little island that must lead deep into an underground cavern. He and Ryouken have explored the sea plenty of times and never spotted an island out here; this too must be a new discovery. Sure enough, as they glide out into the middle of the water, a dot appears on the horizon. It bubbles and fizzles in and out of view, and in the distance he hears chatter.

Voices? He strains his ears to hear more.

Voices—hundreds of them all gathered on that tiny island no bigger than his thumb. Every bone in his body tells him to slam on the brakes and turn around, but instead he slows himself down and floats over the water.

Duelists everywhere. No doubt this is the location of the second day's mission, yet he never expected so many duelists would gather here all at once to complete it. Does no one else have a life? Are they all as intent on gathering all seven Tokens as him?

"Seems like we weren't the only ones with a good idea," Ryouken says. "Still up for it?"

"It'll be worse if we wait it out and try again in the afternoon." Besides, he's downed three cups of coffee just to be awake all night for this.

"Maybe we can sneak in another way."

If there was more than one way, he'd see plenty of duelists swarming the island from all angles. However, as they approach, he sees one entrance: a large hole in the middle of the island that seems to plunge into the centre of the earth. Duelists dive down the tunnel with practised ease; only a few scared duelists cling to edge and question theirs and everyone else's sanity.

Ryouken leads the way through the cave. Yuusaku follows, guiding his board along. With the tunnel being a straight passage down, he hears the chatter rise up to whack him in the face. Every voice echoes; every conversation moulds together into an incessant ring that grates his eardrums. He keeps his mouth shut only to not contribute to the painful noises. Fortunately, Ryouken does the same.

They keep to the edges of the tunnel, boards scratching the rough cavern walls. Roots and vines poke out from the wet earth. For awhile, they ride down into the centre of the earth, until at the last minute the path diverges to the side and they travel along a narrow corridor. Here, the voices bounce off the walls even further. With every D-Board lit around him, Yuusaku spots the smoothness of these walls. He runs his hands over the surface.

"You've got the map, right?"

It blinks in the corner of his eye. "We're going the right way."

"All the way to the end?"

"Should b—"

A thunderous boom echoes through the cavern. Yuusaku snatches Ryouken and presses them both against the walls of the cavern. He hears the boom once more, then a rumble.

Then the sound of duelists screaming, D-Boards shooting by him, total panic in the caverns.

Ryouken tightens his grip on their held hands and yanks him forward.

A boulder. A boulder the size of a  _ house  _ barrelling towards them like from Indiana Jones—no, exactly like Indiana Jones, with the likelihood of someone being crushed by it all-too-likely. Yuusaku slams his heel down on the accelerator and the board shoots forward. With the tunnel walls clear, he doesn't have to worry about gliding side to side until he sees the cluster of panicked duelist who  _ can't drive properly.  _ They swarm together, knocking into each other's boards. By the looks of their wild driving, none of them have any clue how to get out of the tunnel or save themselves.   
  
His shoulder narrowly misses the rough cavern wall. There's no way around them, not with their haphazard boarding skills.   
  
Behind him, the boulder rumbles closer, scratching, rolling, rumbling—   
  
"Yuusaku, down!"   
  
Ryouken pushes him down to the ground. Yuusaku squeezes his eyes closed, bracing himself for the impact of his board colliding with solid ground. The feeling never comes. When he opens his eyes, he's in near-darkness with the only light coming from above the tunnel. Briefly, the light disappears as something rolls directly over them, and then it returns like a dim, albeit welcome, candle.   
  
Ryouken breathes a loud sigh of relief. "It wouldn't have been able to kill us," he says, "but I bet it would teleport us back to the start of the tunnel."   
  
He dares not say that he thought it would kill them all. Heart still hammering in his chest, he takes a moment to catch his breath before he speaks up. "How'd you know ..."   
  
"To go down here?" Ryouken taps his hand to the cavern walls. "Full of little passageways; I noticed them on the way down. There's probably a scientific explanation behind the holes in the walls, but when we were running I figured we could ..." He presses a finger to his lips.   
  
Yuusaku strains his ears. With the rolling boulder, most duelists should have been caught by the hazard and either killed—unlikely—or returned to the starting line. He doubts anyone could have come up with the same idea as Ryouken. Yet above his head he hears loud, thunderous footsteps. A beast? Another duelist? An NPC?   
  
The light at the top of the tunnel flickers away as someone tumbles down the hole after them. Yuusaku presses back against the walls of the tunnel to make room for the stranger.   
  
"Naoki?"   
  
Naoki of all people. Known as Brave Max in Link Vrains, he's one of Yuusaku's high school classmates. They were neither friends nor in school, must to Naoki's dismay. However, regardless of whether Naoki has changed since then, Yuusaku still remembers hearing Naoki drone on and on about his virtual avatar and all the duels he'd won. Unless someone else took his silly comic-book-hero design, this could be no one else.   
  
"Pla—Playmaker!"   
  
He groans internally. Naoki's fanboyish—   
  
"I fell into a trap with Mr. Playmaker!"   
  
"Not a trap," Ryouken retorts. "A safe—"   
  
"And Mr. Revolver too!" Naoki squeals into his cupped hands, eyes wide and sparkly. He looks like a child on Christmas Day, leaping from foot to foot with unbridled joy. Any other day, Yuusaku would merely give Naoki a quick "hello" and be on his way, but he remembers the earlier midnight message. 

Naoki was awake. 

Naoki wanted to quest with him. 

_ Why today?  _ he bemoans to hinself.    
  
"Are you completing the mission too?"   
  
Yuusaku shrugs. Why else would he be here, on this otherwise useless island, heading deep into the chasm?   
  
But if Naoki is on the mission, then ...   
  
"Where's your partner?" Yuusaku asks.   
  
"My ...?"   
  
"Partner. You need one for the mission."   
  
Naoki rubs the back of his head. "See, I forgot to log in yesterday and I missed the partner match-ups and Blue Angel's performance—it was awful! So I just thought I'd come here today to complete the mission and find someone to team up with—and while I was here I found both of you! Just my luck!"   
  
Yuusaku chews on his lip. "But Ryo—I mean, Revolver and I are already a team—"   
  
"And I'd be more than happy to join!" Naoki chirps. "Let's be a trio! A threesome!"   
  
Ryouken barely smothers his snort in his fist. "Only two people per team. Sorry."   
  
"Sorry," Yuusaku adds. "Maybe ... check the forums?"    
  
"Or I can just go along with you and reap the same rewards you get. Besides ..." Naoki rubs his hands together, staring down at his feet with wide, wet eyes. "I didn't even bring my D-Board, so I have no way of getting out … So I need a brave hero to save me …"   
  
Were they not currently preoccupied with the mission, he would have strangled Naoki then and there. Anger bubbles inside him—it would be just like Naoki to purposefully forget his D-Board just so that Playmaker, his idol, could save him. There are no boundaries to the lengths Naoki will go for his idols.   
  
Yuusaku sighs through his teeth. "Fine, but we can't take you to the tunnel—"   
  
"That's fine," Naoki says, waving his hands back and forth. "Just take me to the Token and I'll make it out before sunrise."   
  
"We can't take you there either," Ryouken says. "Only two boards."   
  
Yuusaku waits with bated breath for Naoki to give them another option, but to his surprise, he agrees.    
  
"That's all I can ask of my heroes."   
  
Yuusaku clicks his board open and mounts it. He extends a hand to Naoki who takes it with a beaming smile. Ryouken mounts his own board, and together the three of them rise up the chasm. Just before the top, Yuusaku pauses and peers down the corridor. No sign of the duelists or the boulder; he supposes the trap must reset, meaning they have enough time to make it to the end of the tunnel.    
  
As soon as his board touches solid ground, he turns to Naoki.   
  
"This is a dream come true," Naoki says, but around his wobbling lips, the words come out far more garbled, and the only word Yuusaku hears clearly is 'dream.' Still he forces a weak smile.   
  
"Head back to the start and find another partner."    
  
He spins the board round and powers through the tunnel. Only when they're far out of earshot, away so that even if he yells down the tunnel Naoki won't hear him, does he say, "Can he really not figure out that we went to the same school for three years? I mean ... I look just like my avatar."   
  
"You're much more outgoing as your avatar than in person."   
  
"Am not."   
  
"Your burning cheeks say otherwise."   
  
Yuusaku buries his face in his hands. His D-Board wobbles beneath him, and Ryouken steadies it with the tip of his own board.   
  
"Who else do you think we'll run into today?"   
  
Takeru, he prays. Or even Aoi. Not Spectre—not today.    
  
A bright spark appears at the end of the tunnel—the first glimpse of true light he's seen since he first entered the cavern. It glows brighter the closer he appears. When he breaks through on the other side, the cavern lights up as if embedded with a million stars—not stars, fireflies dancing around the walls. It looks like a mini-jungle in here. No doubt this could only exist in the virtual reality of Link Vrains, but Yuusaku stills his board to a halt and gazes up at the planetarium.   
  
Mistletoe everywhere. It hangs from the ceiling, from the roof; tied around the trees and buried in the ground. Whoever designed this area probably never researched where mistletoe came from, but in a way it makes the sight all the lovelier.   
  
"Do we have to kiss under there?"   
  
"Find three pieces of mistletoe," Yuusaku says. Judging by the sheer amount of mistletoe, the quantity must not replenish before the end of the day. Thus, this quest is limited to whoever is here first.   
  
He yanks the first piece out of the ground. A light on his duel disk blinks: "Collected the first piece of mistletoe. Two more to go!"

That's ... it? The quest is simply to pick out three pieces of mistletoe. Sure, they seem to be the only one in this chasm, meaning everyone else was knocked back by the boulder. But still. The first day's event was a hundred times harder. He sighs through his nose. If he'd known today would have been so easy, he wouldn't have stressed over the crowds and logged in early. It wouldn't have mattered if all of Link Vrains' duelists were down here now because they probably wouldn't even have made it down the tunnel.

_ Found a piece of mistletoe! Collect one more to receive your Token! _

Too easy. Collecting the mistletoe seems far too easy.

His fingers hesitate over the final piece. The small, green sprigs of mistletoe glow from the weak cavern light, pulsing with the cavern's heartbeat. Faintly, he can hear the rumble of duelists who passed the boulder; any second, a few more lucky survivors will make it into the chasm. Still, even if all of Link Vrains took three pieces of mistletoe, the collection wouldn't disappear.

What's even the point of it then?

"You going to get that?" Ryouken asks.

"Something's wrong."

"It could be," Ryouken says, tapping fingers to his pointed chin, "or you could be overthinking. Both are likely."

He turns his head just enough to give Ryouken a long-suffering glare. "Such reassurance."

"I'm just saying," he continues, "that if you're going to be suspicious over collecting mistletoe, I'd say there's a much more pressing thought on your mind."

"Kissing?" He snorts out a laugh. "I doubt SOL Technologies want to encourage that sort of relationship."

"It is a couple's event." Swiftly, Ryouken scoops up the third piece of mistletoe, twirling it between his fingers. The automated duel disk voice trills out the completion of the event, but he hardly hears it over the sound of his beating heart as Ryouken hangs the mistletoe over his head. He's seen this scene before in every cheesy Christmas film. The virtual mistletoe even  _ looks  _ like it belongs in a wintry romance film, all the way up to the blossoming buds hanging from the shiny, green stems.

Ryouken swings the mistletoe from side to side like a pendulum. Yuusaku's eyes follow the path, catching the light refracted off the green stem.

"No one else is down here yet," Ryouken says.

"We're in our avatars," Yuusaku says. Lightly, he trails his finger down Ryouken's chest. Even in his Link Vrains form, and still wearing his ridiculous, tacky sweater, his chest is firmer than rock, chiseled away by the gods themselves. He considers pressing his cheek to Ryouken’s chest just to feel the ridges of his ribs and abs. He only stops himself when he hears the growing thunder of duelists in the tunnel.

"Once?"

The mistletoe swings over their heads, back and forth, round and round.

Leaning up on his heels, he presses one short, chaste kiss to Ryouken's lips. He barely feels the brush of flesh against his lips; at home, he'd be much firmer and needy, possessive even. Ryouken has told him more than once that his kisses have  _ teeth and nails.  _ But in his avatar, a hundred anxieties hold him back.

Just as he breaks away, just as his heels touch down on the firm ground, a bright flash goes off in front of his eyes. He blurts out, "Naoki," first, only because if anyone is snapping photos of anyone, it would be Naoki taking shots for Den City High's photography club; they're always looking for new scoops on Link Vrains duelists. But to his surprise, it's not Naoki—or at least, not Naoki with the camera. Naoki does stand next to the figures, quieter than he could ever be. But standing next to him, and holding the camera, are two robot-animals, the first a pigeon and the second a frog. The pigeon has the camera affixed to the top of its head, and in its feet it holds the round, green frog with a little, blue creature perched on its own head. Hovering above the air, the two robots stand at eye-level with him and Ryouken.

"Team Datastorm ..."

"Huh—"

"Team Datastorm!" the pigeon bursts out. It rockets forward, shooting out a grey, feathered wing to shake Yuusaku's hand. Never before has he shaken hands with a pigeon, much less a  _ robotic pigeon,  _ and the feeling of metal feathers against his clammy palm sends a shiver down his spine. The pigeon continues on with enthusiasm: "It's a pleasure to meet the both of you, yes it is! And a pleasure to see your first down here. Tell me, how was the trip?"

"The ..."

Ryouken clears his throat, silencing off the next prattle from the pigeon. "Media for Link Vrains-mas?"

"For SOL Technologies themselves!" the frog says. "I'm Yamamoto—"

"And I'm Saito and we're just doing a little interview on Link Vrains duelists," the pigeon interrupts. "So tell us, fellow duelists, how are you finding this event?"

Questions have always frightened Yuusaku. They're personal, requesting information from an individual who may or may not want to give. He can answer questions from Ryouken easily; he can talk freely to Takeru, and sometimes to Spectre. He can lie to everyone else. But today, staring back at the two robots with wide, unblinking eyes, he feels only fear. Can they tell if he lies? What will they say? The click-click of the rolling film chips away at his strained nerves.

"Easy."

Both robots latch onto Ryouken's words like he's spilled the juiciest gossip. "For a seasoned duelist, you mean?"

"For the both of us," Ryouken says, and this time he tugs Yuusaku closer, one arm wrapping around his waist. Yuusaku sucks in a breath—does the air feel lighter down here? Is he getting light-headed from lack of oxygen?

"And you, Playmaker—what are your thoughts on this event?"

"Easy."

"Have you completed an event like this before?"

An event where SOL Technologies' planning feels akin to a high school student's term paper? Plenty of times. He's participated in every single event ever hosted.

He nods his head—

"And what will do you if you win the event?"

He hasn't given the idea much thought. There's an exclusive event for the winners that he'll avoid at all costs. Mainly, he'll reap the item and achievement rewards and spend the rest of his time in Link Vrains normally: questing, exploring, and just spending time outside of mundane reality.

"Will you celebrate in the real world?"

He jumps—accidentally, but with Ryouken's hand still around his waist, they both feel it.

"That's a bit personal," Ryouken says, cutting off the next question.

Quick as can be, the robotos correct themselves: "Sorry, sorry, sirs, we don't mean to pry, no we don't! We'd just like to know more about the duelists—"

"Then you can ask them," he says, pointing off into the distance. At the point of Ryouken's finger, Yuusaku sees the swarm—hundreds of duelists flooding out of the tunnel like a human wave. Most of them seem to spot the mistletoe scattered throughout the cavern, and those that don't are caught up in the storm and figure out their way sooner or later. Everyone tumbles out, one after the other, and the resulting noise echoes through the cavern. He slaps his hands over his ears to muffle the roar.   
  
Ryouken grabs his elbow and tucks him aside.    
  
Escape. With the sudden rise of new duelists, the robotic reporters, Saito and Yamamoto, have become distracted with all the new duelists they can interview and footage they can record. Yuusaku doubts the reporters even hear him and Ryouken sneak away and log out of Link Vrains.   
  
When he lands back home, his desk chair has never felt so comfy. He arches his back, tilting his head up—only to bump noses with Ryouken who hangs over the back of the chair. He brushes his nose along Yuusaku's cheek, across the faint ridges of his cheekbones; unlike Ryouken, Yuusaku still has some of his young, boyish fat cupping his face. He leans into the caress; without the press to photograph, he can be a little more forward. His lips dust the corner of Ryouken's mouth.   
  
"Pushy, aren't we?"   
  
"Hardly," he breathes against Ryouken's wet lips. "Those interviewers though ..."   
  
"Worry about them tomorrow," Ryouken says. "Tonight ..." He drops his head down on Yuusaku's chest. Yuusaku doesn't even feel the weight, as if Ryouken's head is meant to nestle against him. Somehow, he floats onto his feet, and somehow, he makes it into the bed. But he doesn't remember his head hitting the pillow, nor does he remember the kiss pressed to his lips and the breathy "Good night."   
  
He does, however, spot the glimmer of green mistletoe hanging above their bed.


	3. BACKDOOR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for datastorm december day 03: crossover or au // blanket cuddling  
> technically this is already au-ish, so there's just a costume change, and then blanket cuddling at the end <3

"A ... party?"

A party indeed, arranged by SOL Technologies and hosted at the exclusive island off the coast of Stardust Road. Already, he feels sick at the thought.

"A party of all things?" He holds the quest up for Ryouken to see. "What sort of event idea is this?"

"Something wild," Ryouken answers. He plucks the invitation from between Yuusaku's fingers and spins the card around to see the writing. Though it's two minutes past midnight in Link Vrains, the world looks particularly bright. The dark clouds thin out to reveal the stars painted in the sky like small, ornate diamonds. The city itself glows with its own beautiful light, and today the gentle murmur of duelists soothes Yuusaku's tired soul. No amount of caffeine could compare to the bubbling energy he receives being in Link Vrains at its quietest hours.

Still, the invitation puzzles him.

"We'll have to log in later," Ryouken says. "The event is only for a couple hours."

"Must be a mistake," Yuusaku says. No way could SOL Technologies host an event for just a couple hours and expect all duelists participating in the event to join in. Not only would that crash the servers, it would force everyone to find time in their busy schedules to be online. Yet as he glances over the paper for a third time, he sees no mistakes. This is the daily Token event for Vrains-mas.

"It looks simple," Ryouken says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Go to the event, receive a Token. We probably don't even have to stay."

"But we have to  _ go ..." _

"You  _ could  _ stay behind."

Never. He's acquired the first two Tokens already, but they're not enough to secure the spot of Grand Couple. That prize is only given to duelists who've captured all seven daily Tokens. Without today's Token, he wouldn't have a chance at the new cards and achievement. Ryouken knows this, of course, and his teasing smile sets a fire in Yuusaku's belly.

"We'll go this evening then."

"How about now?"

Ryouken's eyebrows rise into his hairline. "Hm?"

"We'll go earlier, just like those other times. Secure us a spot."

On the horizon, he sees the glowing lights of the private island. The event must already be set up, but he sees light flickering from various rooms. There must still be SOL Technologies workers at the venue, ensuring that it's prepared for tonight's gala. With any luck, the Tokens will be there too ... and if they can't get them by regular means, they can sneak in.

Ryouken flicks his gaze from Yuusaku to the venue. "You really think this will work?"

"Worth a shot," he answers. His mind buzzes with the caffeine he chugged before he logged in; at the least, he has four hours to go until his mind crashes.

With a shrug, Ryouken mounts his board, and together they take off through the barren streets of Link Vrains. Even when they break out of the city square, he doesn't see a single duelist in sight. Even the hardcore duelists intent on winning this event must be sleeping tonight. He feels even more at peace as he guides his board up over the fence around Stardust Road and down to the gentle, lapping waters.

A venue on Stardust Road. Were it not for his utter dislike of all public event, he would love to spend an evening out on the water: riding his board, sitting on the sand, dipping his toes into the lapping waves. He'd especially want to spend the day with Ryouken.

Gently, he tips his board into Ryouken's.

"Tired already?" Ryouken asks, bumping back into him.

"Enjoying the ride," he answers.

A gentle hum rumbles in Ryouken's throat. In the starlight, his white hair glows so brightly that he must appear as a beacon crossing the dark waters. If there were guards, they would have spotted him in an instant; yet as they glide around the side of the island, Yuusaku sees only shadows of people wandering inside the building. No security, no duelists.

He lowers the speed of his engine as he approaches the edge of water. From there, only a short strip of sand separates him from the luxurious mansion built into the stone. It looks like a royal palace with draperies hung over the wet stone, and stained-glass windows catching the starlight. All around the castle winds a small cobblestone path that he supposes must lead up to the front of the building.

At the edge of the water, he leaps off his board, teleports it back into his duel disk, and lands on the sand. His toes sink into the ground and muffle the noise of his landing. Ryouken leaps down next to him.

"Do you have a plan?"

He nods, then pauses.

The light catches on Ryouken's single, sharp tooth exposed by his wide smirk. "I see. I'll follow your lead then."

Huffing, Yuusaku marches off towards the castle. His feet click on the cobblestone; he braces himself for guards running out of the palace to arrest him. Yet he only hears the sound of their laboured breathing. They press themselves up against the castle walls, shadows obscuring their faces.

_ Next. What next? _

His eyes slide towards the front of the castle. Ryouken said the Tokens would be at the front so that they received the reward upon their arrival. But then would the palace guards keep the Tokens in a safer location until the start of the event?

His gaze flicks to the back of the castle.

"You think there's a backdoor?" he asks Ryouken.

"You think we should check it out?" A smile. "I'm following your lead. Remember?"

Yuusaku shoves an elbow into Ryouken's side, and smiles when he hears him groan. Then he slips down the side of the castle wall, keeping one shoulder against the stone at all times. He's snuck into various SOL Technologies facilities before, often to hack into their equipment or explore unmapped areas, and so his footfalls remain silent. Yet Ryouken is even quieter; like a ghost, he moves soundlessly behind him. The only downfall is his hair which catches even the slightest bit of light.

The third time Yuusaku sees it glow in his vision, he spins around. "Your hair," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

"What about it?"

"Too bright. You need to hide it."

A smile flickers over Ryouken's face. "So then ... a disguise?"

_ A helmet,  _ he wants to say, but before he can answer, Ryouken snaps his fingers and with a single flicker of light, he changes—not into a ninja or a likewise cloaked figure, but as a smartly-dressed gentlemen in a three-piece suit. He adjusts the fold of his lapels and tuffs the ends of his purple handkerchief tucked neatly into his breast pocket. Yuusaku stares with his mouth open in awe. A—a suit?

Ryouken taps Yuusaku's chin to close his mouth. "You have one too," he says. "A fancy suit."

Sure enough, in the daily event description of his duel disk is the option to "change outfits." He was too busy glaring at the event itself to bother paying attention to a detail about outfits and decorations.

"You still don't blend in," Yuusaku mutters, flicking the ends of Ryouken's cloud-white hair. If anything, the black suit only makes him stand out more as a single, white-haired head floating in the darkness.

"If we get caught, we'll just say we came to the event early."

"Through the backdoor?"

"Why not?"

Grumbling, Yuusaku clicks his own outfit button. The light that flashes before his eyes seems even brighter, and he cringes as he imagines the sound of a hundred footsteps chasing after them. Yet nothing of the sort happens. Rather, when he opens his eyes, he sees himself garbed in an identical black suit. It feels no different than his usual skinsuit his avatar wears. An optical illusion then?

Ryouken's hand settles on his shoulder and lightly scrunches the fabric. "You clean up nice."

His cheeks burn at the praise. "We need to go, but ..." He brings a hand to his hair and yanks it down. Blue and pink, to his surprise. His eyes widen. H-how does his Link Vrains avatar look just like him? How come it no longer looks like Playmaker who, while nearly-identical, had everyone in his entire school fooled, Naoki and Aoi included.

Ryouken lifts his own hair up for inspection. "It's strange we changed back."

"Too strange," Yuusaku murmurs. "Is this some event to get everyone to come out to each other?"

"Make friends in the real world maybe?"

"Not happening." He turns his gaze to the back of the building. Though alight with the stars from both the sky and the sea, he spots a small sliver of artificial light between two parts of the wall. He slides himself towards it and stretches his fingers between the crack. Rather than meet solid stone, he feels free space.

Passageway.

He tugs the door back. The wall moves with it, revealing a twirling passageway down into the belly of the rock.

"Another cavern?" he murmurs. They already traversed through one of these to get a Token. Surely SOL Technologies could have come up with something better.

He slips through the passageway and down the stairs. Ryouken remains close behind. Once they pass through the doorway, he notices the change in scenery. The castle  _ boils  _ as it were built above a volcano, and not a lick of wind stirs through the passage. Gone are the gentle, ambient sounds of the waves, wind, and sea. All Yuusaku hears are the thrum of footsteps above his head.

_ Below the main floor?  _ he wonders. The stairs keep twirling further and further down, and yet the sound of feet never grows quieter. When he reaches the bottom, it still feels like he's in the basement suite of a house. Ahead of him stretches several different routes, all brightly lit and resembling the hallways of a family home.

"Private house?" Ryouken wonders.

Yuusaku shrugs a shoulder. He wouldn't put it past Akira to build some private laboratory on the bottom floor of his ritzy venue.

Gently, Ryouken pushes his shoulder. "Lead the way."

He heads down the left-most path. It looks no different than the other paths, and no guiding voice tells him to wander down here; he simply takes the first path his feet move towards and follows it down. Just like a house, there are various rooms scattered along, though none of the doors open when he jiggles the handles. The single room that is open, door creaking on its hinges, holds nothing inside.

Storage facility, he assumes. They've wandered down into the storage facility.

"We should split up," he says to Ryouken. "Cover more area."

"So one of us can get caught and the other can escape?"

"So we can explore the rooms." he says with a sigh. "It'll take hours to search every corridor here, and if the Token is hidden anywhere, it's bound to be in the storage area of the venue."

"Unless SOL Technologies just gifts it to your inventory as soon as you enter the event."

Unlikely. That would require Link Vrains' technology not being as glitchy as it can be. No, the Token would be down here.

_ Clunk!  _ The footsteps over their head grow louder, sounding more like elephants clambering down the stairwell. Yuusaku's breath sucks into his chest. He pulls Ryouken down the hallway, still keeping his footfalls silent. He runs to the end of the hallway, only to find a dead-end with no open doors. Grumbling, he rushes back to the single empty room.

The footsteps echo down the hallway.

With nowhere to hide, Yuusaku pushes him and Ryouken behind the door. If anyone steps through, he'll see their face. If anyone spots him, he can close the door on them. If they try to break in ... he'll think of another plan.

Ryouken's hot breath blows across his neck. No fear, never any fear from him, but Yuusaku squirms all the same.

"Is this really where the secret Token is?"

"Sure, why not?"

His eyes narrow. Those voices sound like ...

"Oh, Yuusaku, you're here too." Spectre's face slams between the slit in the doorway and he smiles with glee. Yuusaku leaps back in fright only to tumble into Ryouken who, in his own surprise, falls down with them. They land in a heap of bodies and limbs on the empty, warm ground, just as Spectre and Takeru round the corner. Both are dressed up in suits too; Takeru's avatar's hair, once blue and red, has changed back to white and red. Spectre looks like he always does: too happy and eager for a regular day.

"I didn't think I'd see both of you here," Spectre says, rubbing at his chin. "Did we all have the same great idea?"

Takeru laughs and scratches at his messy hair. "I guess we all didn't want to go to the party ..."

"The party?" Yuusaku pushes himself off of Ryouken and stands back up. He dusts the dirt from his tuxedo then glances from Spectre to Takeru. "You're skipping too?"

"He's skipping," Spectre says, jabbing a finger at Takeru. "Says the party seems too busy—"

"Because  _ everyone  _ is going to be there," Takeru finishes, staring down at his shoes. "It's a special event for Link Vrains duelists where you get a Token simply for  _ being there.  _ Everyone's going to jump on the free opportunity."

Yuusaku nods his head in agreement. He and Ryouken specifically snuck into here so that neither of them would have to attend the social event—but to think another couple had the same idea?

"Are you ..." Ryouken tilts his head to the side, rubbing at his chin. "Are you a ... team?"

"A couple?" Spectre says, teeth exposed. "Nah, we're soloing this for the free Token. I saw Takeru standing outside and said he should come along."

"And ..." Takeru rubs his hands together, cheeks pink. "I followed you, Yuusaku. I thought you might know where the event was and how to get the Token without going to the social club because ..." He tugs at his white hair.

No one knows Takeru is Soulburner either. Yuusaku understands the secret identity crisis well. He and Ryouken both know, and he suspects Spectre knows too—but if word got out that Soulburner, one of the favourite duelists in Link Vrains, was a university student at Den City, there would be an uproar of press coverage, and Takeru hates public attention as much as him.

"So we're all trying to hide our identities," Takeru says with a shrug.

Ryouken glances to Spectre. "How come you're here?"

"I saw Takeru hanging around and told him he should go inside; he said he saw you and Yuusaku head in through the backdoor and so I thought to investigate."

His arms fold together over his chest. "And you just happened to be in the area?"

"I wanted to get to the event early, sneak in, see what they were doing."

Yuusaku holds back a sigh, but still louder is Ryouken's groan.

"Did you know there's a secret Token here?"

Yuusaku blinks.

"A secret Token," Spectre continues, "that I found out after some prying and searching through SOL Tech's files. After all, this event is to figure out the identities of all the duelists. Think of it as a more productive way of learning everyone's identities without resorting to putting cameras in the duel disks themselves."

"But wait," Yuusaku speaks up. "What do those two things have to do together? Why a secret Token  _ and  _ an identity reveal?"

Spectre bounces his shoulder up and down. "They have nothing in common. The secret Token is just stealing the regular Token before your identity is discovered."

"Then just say that," Takeru mumbles.

The four of them lapse into uneasy silence, glancing around the room for someone to speak up. Yuusaku keeps his gaze down to everyone's feet; with nothing else to look at in the room, he avoids their eyes. Fortunately, the four of them all know each other's identities; however, who's to say Naoki won't show up after seeing them glide out across Stardust Road. He and Ryouken were careless with their sneaking; of course there would be duelists out here and night.

"So." Spectre claps his hands together. "Are we getting the secret Token?"

"Do you have a plan?" Ryouken asks, lips quirking.

"Steal the Token, shut down the event."

"Again," Ryouken says. "How?"

Yuusaku marches out of the room and peers down the corridor. Above his head, he hears the footfalls of the venue organisers. They must be setting up until right to the end, meaning that this event is still underway. However ...

He chews on his lip. An event would need help from the outside too, from SOL Technologies' headquarters. There would be coders and programmers helping too.

"We just need to break the event."

"Huh?" Takeru asks.

" I've repeated it enough times. Look." Spectre points up towards the ceiling, to where Yuusaku still hears the people bustling around upstairs. "There's a big party going on and everyone's going to be learning everyone else's identity. SOL Technologies is probably going to be doing stock take of everyone here, maybe to y'know find out who some of us truly are. Either way, this big event sounds like a setup for something massive. All we have to do is break the event—crash the system, delete some data so that this entire area malfunctions—"

"And electrocute someone?" Takeru swallows. "Really, that seems—"

"Fine, not electrocute them. But something that'll get everyone out of here so that SOL Technologies isn't peeping into our private lives."

"Not that it bothers you," Ryouken says.

"Not at all, but the rest of you act like you really have secrets to hide."

Yuusaku shifts away from them once more. Down the hallway, he only sees the endless maze of walls and ceiling and closed doors. "Do you know where we could crash the system?"

"Through one of these doors, I'd imagine." Spectre bounces up and down on his heels. By his body language alone, he looks to be the only one content with the revelation. Ryouken's features are pulled tightly together, lips pressed into a thin line; and Takeru's wide eyes blink as fast as his brain must be trying to process the new information. Yuusaku himself feels numb to it all.

"What about the backdoor?" Ryouken asks. "There must be a way into SOL's coding through this new castle; after all, they're still building it."

"One of the rooms then," Yuusaku says, and without waiting for a reply, he turns down the hallway and back towards the main area. Once more, he stands at the intersection of at least five new paths. None of them look unique. None of them have any distinguishing markings, lest of all signs pointing towards the control room. As the others pile into the room next to him, the surrounding only become muddier. With everyone talking over each other, he can hardly focus on specifics.

"Footprints," Ryouken speaks up. He points down the furthest right corridor, then drags his finger towards the floor. Sure enough, several dusty tracks appear if they tilt their heads and gaze at the ground through a certain filter of light. Only Ryouken, standing in that specific spot, would have been able to see them.

"Lead the way," Spectre says and gives Yuusaku a slight push forward.

The entire walk down the hallway, Yuusaku wishes they would be quieter. None of them are supposed to be here, and yet Ryouken and Spectre chat amicably about trivial matters: weather, dueling records, daily life. Their voices are neither loud nor soft, but instead reach a particular pitch that sends a shiver down his spine whenever their voices match up with the clip-clop of feet up above. Meanwhile, Takeru walks closest to him, dragging his feet as he moves.

"Did you know about this whole identity thing?" Takeru asks.

Yuusaku shakes his head. It had been just as much a surprise to him when his hair turned blue and pink.

Takeru tugs at the bowtie around his neck. "I feel like some stuffy businessmen. Was all this really necessary?" Sighing, he hangs his head forward. "So you and Ryouken are part of this love festival?"

"Holiday event," Yuusaku corrects.

"Same thing. Still, didn't know he and you were the romantic types?"

"I wanted the achievement and reward." Yuusaku rolls his eyes. "It just so happens we're dating."

"Heh." Bumping shoulders with him, Takeru laughs. "The world alone would be surprised that Revolver and Playmaker are Ryouken and Yuusaku, but also a couple i-r-l."

"In real life, you mean?" He can't help but laugh at Takeru's dorky internet lingo. "And I thought you and Spectre were together."

"We're more lie fire and water, to be honest." He pauses. "Sorry I followed you."

He shrugs.

"I wanted to be part of this event, but it seemed a little too exclusive for a single guy like me—"

Yuusaku presses a finger to Takeru's lips, effectively silencing him. "It's fine," he says. "I'd rather you than Spectre alone, or Naoki. Or anyone else. But ..." He presses a finger to his own lips. "In there."

Quietly, they gather round the entrance to the room. Through the doorway is a wall of computer screens, and seated before them a handful of SOL Technologies' computer technicians. He recognises them by their crisp, navy blue suits. None of the people among them look like Akira or Hayami, but without a doubt they must be reporting to them.

On several of the screens are lists of duelists who accepted the invitation. Other screens show feeds from several chats about the event, as well as social media accounts following blogs and webpages dedicated to Link Vrains. In the centremost screen are two screenshots, one of Revolver and one of Playmaker, with the words underneath, "Where are these two?"

"That's from yesterday," Yuusaku says. He and Ryouken at the last Token event. Why SOL Technologies would be following them exclusively is beyond him. But the sight of their photographs alone makes his blood boil. So SOL is after him for some reason, and Ryouken too? This event then ...

It wouldn't be to capture them, would it?

No.

Ridiculous.

But the pictures don't lie.

Takeru taps his shoulder and then points to the screen.

Yuusaku nods his head grimly.

Quietly, they head past the room and into the adjacent room which looks much more similar to the first spot they hid in: a large, empty space probably meant to store party supplies. The difference is that it's no larger than a broom closet. They cram themselves inside, folding into whatever crevice they can fit into, and only one Ryouken shuts the door does anyone speak up.

"Your photograph!" Takeru's voice breaks and squeaks. "Why are they—"

"I don't want to know," Yuusaku says.

"I do," Ryouken retorts. "They're looking for us."

"They're trying to catch you," Spectre says. "Did you see the advertisement on the wall?"

The ad? Yuusaku shakes his head. After he saw his own shot, taken without his permission, he forgot to pay attention to much more.

"I saw it," Ryouken says. "SOL Technologies is in line with that ridiculous paparazzi duo, always trying to get the latest scoop on duelists."

"Link Vrains' most beloved online reporters." Spectre snaps his fingers; Yuusaku winces as the sound echoes around them.

"But why would those two be working together?"

"The reveal of Playmaker and Revolver," Ryouken answers. "That shady news company could make a fortune with the reveal of even a minor duelist—they'd be rich for centuries off the funds they'd receive from that gossip. SOL Technologies would make even more; most likely the news company has given them an offer they can't refuse—"

"Or vice versa." Spectre's grin widens. "SOL Technologies has a lot of affluence, but I bet if they wanted more publicity, they could sell news to the company in exchange for profit. No doubt the recent expansion cost them plenty of money."

"So then all along, this event was just to expose us ..."

Yuusaku's stomach churns beneath his clenched hand. Thousands of questions spin in circles in his head. What would SOL Technologies even want from them to begin with that they couldn't already get through the usual scooping and searching methods? What could they possibly need more information about? And of all places, why get information from a harmless event.

"For certain, we need to make sure no one uncovers our identities."

Spectre shrugs his shoulders. "I could care less if they find me." When no one speaks up, he adds, "Well, I'm me. They already know that."

"Could you ..." Takeru shifts his eyes towards the door. "Y'know ... stop them?"

"Legally?"

"Without murder," Yuusaku says.

"Possibly." Spectre snaps his fingers together, then steeples them under his pointed chin. He looks like a mastermind plotting a dastardly deed, and Yuusaku wonders if, had he not told Spectre to think of other solutions besides murder, that would have been a viable option. He for one wants no blood on his fingers. Ryouken however ... He chews on his lips, eyebrows meshed together. As the leader of the Knights of Hanoi, he's completed his fair share of illegal work, and much more than Yuusaku's hacking.

The silence washes over them once more, punctuated only by Takeru's shivery breaths and Spectre's soft snaps of his fingers.

Then Ryouken speaks up.

"Until we know more, we should pretend that we never found anything out. SOL Technologies doesn't know we know and it should remain that way."

"Agreed."

Yuusaku glances down at his faintly-glowing duel disk.

"But." Ryouken raises a finger. "Yuusaku and I came here for the event and we're not leaving without the Token. One way or another, we have to get it."

"In the room," Yuusaku says. "I saw the Token in there."

"Not a virtual code then," Takeru says, rubbing at his chin. "So if we broke into there, we could get it."

"Without losing our cover?"

Spectre cuts them all off with a clear of his throat. "I don't have a cover to begin with."

Yuusaku and Takeru open their mouths to agree, but again, they are cut off—this time by Ryouken.

"What's in it for you?"

"An invitation to your adventures—"

"Fine."

Yuusaku blinks. "You ... want to come?"

Between them, Takeru chuckles, more of a breath of air than a proper sound. "Well, what I can do for you is ..."

"Come along," Yuusaku says. "You're in this mess too."

Snapping his fingers once more, Spectre gazes round the squished space at them. "Well? We sorted?"

Ryouken nods his head, and Yuusaku follows along. The door swings open on silent hinges, and slowly they roll out of the cramped space and down the hallway. His eyes flick to the ceiling and corners—no signs of cameras, unless they're hidden. He anticipates an ambush; SOL Technologies must know they're here. Yet the only sounds from the hallway come from their laboured breaths and the slight murmur of voices from the computer room.

Blood rushes in his ears.

"Stay there. I'll handle this. But." Spectre spins round on his heel, fixing them with a cold, ruthless look. He looks like Yuusaku once remembers: a fierce duelist of the terrorist organisation the Knights of Hanoi. "When I come out, we run."

He still remembers the pattern out: down the hallway, up the stairs, out the door. They'll dash across Stardust Road to the first available island. They won't be able to teleport home, not until the initial investigation is complete and only if duelists are asked to log out. Nothing suspicious. Nothing dangerous.

Spectre heads down the hallway, not pausing at the doorway, not waiting to see what happens. He saunters right into the room, then back out, without a single noise or interruption. Yuusaku doesn't have it in him to ask what just happened, only that as soon as Spectre returns waving the Token, they  _ run. _

Down the hallway.

Up the stairs.

Out the door.

Onto their D-Boards, they dash across Stardust Road. Briefly, he glances down at the stars dancing in the rippling water, but then, with each shadow he sees, he hopes he never hears the roar of a second engine. Every nerve in his body tells him he's in great peril. He wonders if he'll ever see the light. He doesn't even realise he's out of Link Vrains until Ryouken touches his shoulder twice, rubs his thumb into, and then, in a voice gentler than cotton, whispers, "Yuusaku, are you with me?"

He blinks. Gone are the stars, the moon, the water. Gone is his Link Vrains avatar in his dashing suit. Gone are Takeru and Spectre, though he suspects Ryouken may still be in contact with Spectre, and that he should text Takeru to see how he's doing.

With a groan, he flexes his fingers and toes. His muscles groan in protest. Just how long was he lying there for? How long has it been since he came back to Den City?

Through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows of Ryouken's ritsy apartment, he spots the moon and stars. Still nighttime. The moonlight reflection calms his racing heart, and he sucks in a deep breath. Then he goes through the motions, reacquainting his hands with the blankets, his toes with the sheets, his body with the couch. He's in the living room; there's a drink on the table. Ryouken sits next to him, one hand lightly pressed against his collarbone.

"What a winter event, huh?"

"Hm?" Yuusaku blinks at him.

"We've only been back for a couple minutes. No worries."

"Hm." He reaches out for the cup, and Ryouken sets it in his palms. He brings it to his lips but does not drink.

"Did it startle you back there?" Ryouken asks. "Our pictures on the wall."

He shrugs a shoulder.

"I never expected SOL Technologies or the stupid paparazzi would be so interested in the private lives of Revolver and Playmaker. Do they know we're dating, or do they think this is some juicy hatesex gossip?"

He nearly snorts into his drink.

"Either way, they can't know all that much. Definitely not enough for them to come find us here—I know they don't have tracking technology, not even enough to narrow down our duelist profiles to our IP addresses. And besides, we're hackers ourselves. They're obviously cautious about messing with me."

"Are you patronising me?"

"Taking care of you?" Ryouken chuckles and draws his own mug up to his lips. "Thought it was in the job description." He lifts the corner of the blanket up and, with some wigging, shuffles in next to Yuusaku. Though they've slept together most nights—unless one of them pulled an all-nighter for gaming or work—Yuusaku can count on his hand the number of times they've cuddled together on the couch. Normally, they aren't home enough to even be in the same space; they spend more time in Link Vrains than anywhere else. So when Ryouken nestles in next to him and rests his head against Yuusaku's collarbone, he melts at the contact.

He's missed the touch.

Ryouken tucks the blanket around their shoulders.

"I'm not falling asleep like this," he says, "but for now, let's just stay here for a moment."

Sure, he tries to say, but when the silent words leave his lips, he simply draws himself closer and rests his head against Ryouken's chest. 


	4. EXPLOIT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for datastorm december day 04: fallen // first christmas or winter

He only realises he's fallen asleep when he wakes up with his chin propped against Ryouken's stiff shoulder. He jolts awake, throwing himself forward, eyes wild. Where is he? What happened? Did he truly fall asleep against Ryouken, or did something else—

Seated next to him, Ryouken remains calm and steady. He says nothing as Yuusaku slowly reacquaints himself with the world: the living room with its plush couch and large windows; the thick blanket around his shoulders and the pillow behind his back; and the thrum of the ocean lapping against the rocks at the bottom of the mountain. He checks behind him in case anyone has wandered into the apartment, but only Ryouken sits next to him.

Yuusaku lets out a deep breath.

"Good afternoon, sleepyhead," Ryouken says.

"Afternoon?" He rubs the corner of his eye, pushing himself off of Ryouken. He nestles back into the cushions and blinks his eyes awake. Though he's certain he hasn't slept more than an hour or two, he feels like he's been in a coma for days.

"You want coffee?"

He shrugs a shoulder.

"You want to talk about what happened?"

Again, he shrugs.

"You want to hear an idea?"

A raise of an eyebrow. "Hm?" he says, rolling his face towards Ryouken. For someone who's been awake for over twenty-four hours, he looks incredible: clear skin and bright blue eyes framed by light lashes. Not a single blemish in sight. He looks like he woke up from an eight-hour sleep and had a shower, when in actuality he's been awake since seven a.m. on the previous day and probably hasn't showered since then either.

It's almost criminal how good-looking Ryouken is.

"Hm?" Yuusaku asks again. "What idea?"

"Spectre sent a message while you were away," Ryouken says. He slips off the couch and heads towards the kitchen, pulling out mugs and instant coffee. As he brews the drinks, he continues: "We can hide from SOL Technologies all we want and avoid whatever is going on, but we won't learn anything unless we get to the source—and the best way to do that would be to cause a scene ... or so Spectre thinks."

"Not sneak in and break the system from the inside?"

"How do we know what system to break?" He draws into himself with a soft sigh, then brings the mugs over: Yuusaku's black as night, his light and milky. "Besides, SOL Technologies could chalk that off to a glitch on their end rather than a confrontation with us."

"You want them to know about us then?" Yuusaku takes a sip of the coffee. "About how we don't want our private information sold to the paparazzi?"

"Essentially, yes." He pauses, lip pressed to the rim of his cup. Yuusaku chews on his own lip. It's unlike Ryouken to be so careful with his words—often times, he's mulled over his thoughts plenty of times before he's spoken up. "But I think we can use the paparazzi against them."

"Against SOL Technologies ..." Yuusaku shakes his head. "You want them to come after us?"

"I want them to come after our avatars," he says. "Chase after us, Revolver and Playmaker, trying to get a story from us. Let them jump to wild conclusions until people can no longer take their ideas seriously. Make them furious with false information ... or so Spectre believes is the best solution to dealing with them. I'm still on the fence with it all."

It certainly sounds like a Spectre solution: flashy and grave, with consequences and attention. Spectre will do anything for the press to follow after him; he lives for the spotlight. However, Yuusaku would much prefer a quiet escape away from the attention, and he supposes Ryouken might feel the same way. Still, he can't discredit Spectre's idea: if they give the press something to work with, they'll lay off on trying to find their identities.

"What do you have in mind?"

"The winter ball."

"The ..." Yuusaku swallows. "Didn't we just come from that?"

"From sneaking into it and learning the truth, yes. But even if we still have the Tokens, SOL Technologies will be expecting us to make an appearance. They've been interested in us right from the start. The least we can do is give them a proper introduction, correct?"

_ Anything but,  _ he wants to say.

"Yes, we'll be walking right into their hands," Ryouken continues, "but imagine the stunned expressions of everyone when we walk into the party and our identities don't change. What will they do? Will they kick us out? Come after us? It'll make such a fuss for SOL Technologies who will be watching the event play out, and for the paparazzi who should be filming the entire event; after all, they've been hanging around since day one. We'll have the entire audience on us."

Yuusaku rolls his eyes. "That's what we  _ don't want ..." _

"We don't want them to find out who we truly are," he corrects. "But if we feed them false information—that Playmaker and Ryouken are together for the winter event, and maybe  _ dancing together— _ they'll be hooked onto us."

"Still ..." he says, chewing on the rim of his cup. It sounds far too much like a Spectre idea, and Yuusaku has seen those plans go sideways before. Yet he can't help but admit it's a good plan, and one that would certainly send all of Link Vrains for a loop.

"Fine."

Ryouken's eyes alight with fireworks. "You'll go along?"

"You sold me on it."

Ryouken clinks his cup to Yuusaku's. "Then let's get ready for an event."

He passes Yuusaku his duel disk. The metal, once warm, feels cold and foreboding in his hands. Link Vrains has always held an air of mystery to it: a virtual city for anonymous dueling. The anonymity of the city once fascinated him. Now, he feels the reassurance slipping through his fingers. Could SOL Technologies have ever uncovered his identity? Were they ever watching him, wondering who he—the top duelist in all of Link Vrains—was in reality?

"I'm glad we get to go to the party," Ryouken says, finger hovering over the key.

"How come?" Yuusaku asks, but Ryouken presses the key and tumbles back onto the couch, consciousness travelling to Link Vrains. Yuusaku logs in as well. He feels his heart leap into his chest, and his body tumble backwards—and then he wakes up in the central square of Link Vrains next to Ryouken, now dressed as Revolver. For the third day of the event, the square is still busy with duelists gathered together. Many of them have already changed into their formal attire: a sea of black suit jackets and white dress shirts. The only distinguishing feature about everyone is their hair. In fact ...

"How come they still look like their avatars?" Yuusku asks.

Across the courtyard comes Takeru's laugh. "There you are!"

Spectre raises his hand as well, waving it back and forth. "Thought you'd sleep the day away?"

They're both wearing suits too. Naturally, Spectre looks the same: white hair parted down the middle, bangs framing his long, narrow face and thin features. Out of the crowd, his is the only suit that is white, and it makes him stand out even more than he already tries to. Trust Spectre to find a way to modify his suit to his own standards. Takeru wears the typical black three-piece suit. He yanks at his collar and tie, pulling a face. However, he looks identical to his avatar: wild, blue and orange hair jets out like licks of flames.

"How come your hair never changed?" Yuusaku asks.

Takeru slicks a hand through his hair. "Me and Spectre were wondering the same thing ... I looked like me—like the real me, I mean—before."

"Glitch? Change of programming?" Spectre counts the ideas off his fingers. "It's happened to everyone else."

Yuusaku swallows. He toggles the formal wear option but doesn't click on it. What if the glitch doesn't work for him? Or what if it does work and it makes him and Ryouken the only two duelists with their identities revealed?

"Either way," Spectre continues, "I have a way around it." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out several small, thin chips, the sort Yuusaku has put into his phone or computer to access memory or data. Kusanagi has even given him these sorts of chips too—modifiers for Link Vrains, often illegal.

"This'll disable any interference with your avatar," he explains. "Essentially, it prevents SOL Technologies from making any changes to your account or avatar, and it'll send a nasty virus to them if they so much as try."

Ryouken slips it into his duel disk. "And you've tried this?"

"I know it works."

Yuusaku slips the chip into the bottom of his disk. Briefly, his screen flickers with the new technology, and then it returns to its usual main menu. No changes, no viruses. He presses the event option for formal wear and closes his eyes for the flash of light. When he opens them, he sees the dark fabric of the suit, feels the tight tie around his neck. He yanks down his hair. Yellow and pink still.

"Thanks," Ryouken says, slipping his hands into his suit pockets. He leans back and forth on his heels, a small smile flickering in the corner of his mouth. "Shall we go then?"

He flicks his clock open and blinks. Time for the event already? Sure enough, all around him he spots duelists coming together in groups and then heading off to the party. No matter how large the groups are, he spots an equal number of people together: couples for the event, some friends and some obviously lovers. Flicking his gaze back to Spectre and Takeru, he asks, "Are you getting in together?"

"Sure," Spectre says at the same time Takeru says, "No, you can go by yourself."

"You ... can?"

"Sure," Takeru says, tumbling over his own words. "It's a winter event but they're not going to ban single people because they didn't get a date, they're just going to not let them have the Token which is all right because I already  _ have  _ the Token so really I'm just coming along to support you and—" He coughs into a fist, cheeks as pink as a peach. "Really, I'll be fine."

"If you want the Token, I'll be your date," Spectre says.

Takeru chokes on his next breath, face turning from pink to a harsh red the colour of his hair.

Ryouken clears his throat to gather their attention once more. "Shall we go?" he says again.

"Yes," Yuusaku says quickly. "Let's go."

Their boards materialise in front of them, and once more they head out over the water towards the private island on Stardust Road. Though the same beautiful lights glow beneath the water, the beads of anxiety in his gut keep him from admiring the stars. The trip feels wrong. They're walking right into the enemy's hands. And as much as Yuusaku would love to knock SOL Technologies down a peg and stop them from unveiling the private identities of duelists, he hardly suspects this is the best idea they could have.

If their identities were uncovered, they wouldn't be safe in Den City. He'd have to move to a cabin in the woods and live out his days as a hermit. Or he'd have to change his name and face and take up a new identity. He likes being Yuusaku. He likes his quiet life in Den City, working as a coder—and the occasional hacker—for Ryouken's legal company K.O.H., and his less-legal company the Knights of Hanoi. He likes being the anonymous duelist Playmaker in Link Vrains. All of that would change if his identity was found.

The lights glow brighter as they approach the castle. With the renovations and party planning complete, the castle looks even more luxurious. Blue and white lights garnish every inch of the palace, decorating the doors and windows and swinging balconies elegantly carved from the rich stone. Through the stained-glass windows glow lanterns illuminating the gorgeous pictures of duelists locked in battle, duel monsters flying through the air. At the front of the palace is a garden he never remembers seeing from the first time he came. Large shrubberies shaped into duel monsters stand on either side of a wide cobblestone pathway snaking up to the castle.

And the duelists. They mill up the pathway in couples and groups, dressed elegantly in crisp suits. With the castle as a backdrop, the scenery truly looks like a portrait from a fairy tale.

They land their boards in an open parking area and follow the crowd towards the castle. Around him, everyone has still retained their avatars.

"Relax," Ryouken says, taking his hand in his own. "Spectre's program will work."

_ Why isn't it working  _ now? Yuusaku wants to ask, but just as he opens his mouth, he hears a soft  _ snap!  _ ahead of him.

The duelists ahead of him change back into their original designs. Though he doesn't recognise them, he sees the difference: the change in their hair, the loss of bold colours and striking hair ornaments. Just up ahead of them, he spots various mirrors and stations for duelists to adjust their hair and makeup. Atop each of the mirrors is a sign: "We love the real you!"

Ryouken tightens his grip on his hand and leads him forward. Yuusaku hears the pop in his ears and jumps, but when his eyes shift to Ryouken, he sees the same white and red hair, the same gold markings around his face.

A hand settles in his pink and yellow hair.

"Same us."

"It ... worked ..."

"Course it worked," Spectre snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did you really think I'd give you faulty tech?"

"It wouldn't have bothered you any," Takeru says. "Still ..." He rubs his hands through his hair, smiling with barely contained glee. "Thanks."

"Thank you," Yuusaku says, dipping his head down.

They slip past the mirrors and changing stations. Even further down the pathway are areas to modify their suits. Tailors adjust their outfits and compliment them with uniquely patterned handkerchiefs or buttons. One stall sells flowers to place in their buttonhole.

Just before they pass it, Ryouken pulls him aside.

"What are ..."

They stop before the flowers. Hundreds of varieties burst from wooden barrels. No two flowers look the same, and it takes a full minute for him to even get a grasp on the colours and styles. Unlike the tailor stalls, not a single person stands waiting for it.

"Free," Ryouken murmurs. He plucks a blue and pink flower from the bunch, twirling it between his fingers. The small, enclosed petals hang like bells or cups.

"Wisteria."

"Suits you," Ryouken says. He slips the stem into the buttonhole of Yuusaku's suit, then adjusts the fabric. Each touch sends a shiver down his spine.

"For me?" Ryouken then says.

He chews on his lip. A white flower would suit Ryouken best, but then colour would add a spring to the black suit. Truthfully, Yuusaku wants to say Ryouken looks good in every colour, a fact he is much jealous about when his own hair clashes with brightly-coloured outfits. He reaches for several flowers and holds them each up to Ryouken's face. At the slightest crinkle of his eyes, Yuusaku feels his cheeks darken.

"Are you going to take all day?" Spectre asks.

He pushes the bud of the flower against Ryouken's lips, effectively silencing his stifled chuckles.

A red rose. 

A flower that contrasts his icy eyes, adds fire to his cool personality. Yuusaku plucks the brightest, reddest rose he can see and pops it through the buttonhole. He runs his hands down Ryouken's firm chest, pats the lapels into place.

"Enjoying yourself, are we?"

Pushes Ryouken on the shoulder to get them moving.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he says, slinking arms with him as they continue up the road once more. 

The single, cobblestone path is full of partygoers dressed in crisp suits. Though identical, everyone buzzes with energy and enthusiasm. Takeru bounces from heel to heel, and Spectre glows in the street lanterns lining the pathway. Even Ryouken carries an air of joy to him. Yuusaku himself feels like the dark cloud hanging over their heads: he folds into himself, tucking his hands into his pockets. The more people he sees, the quieter he becomes. He hates social gatherings with a passion: all talk and chatter, frivolous socialising with no real conclusion. He won't be meeting any lifelong friends here; no one's going to offer him a prize.

His gaze slides to the stone palace. Somewhere in there, SOL Technologies is watching them, looking for them.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and Yuusaku freezes on the spot.

"Nice hairstyle, buddy!" a stranger says. "You look just like Playmaker—what a fanboy!"

Before Yuusaku can even open his mouth, the stranger continues on through the crowd. A heavy sigh leaves his lips.

"See?" Ryouken says, bumping shoulders with him. "No one's going to bother us."

"You don't call that bothering?" he murmurs.

"You know what I mean."

At the top of the path is the front garden to the palace: a large, stone space lined with potted plants and benches. Just like the area down below, it acts as a meeting place for fellow duelists. They sweep past the courtyard and through the stiff, wooden doors. The temperature changes at once—warm heat from candles and torches makes the hall glow amber and gold. Thick tapestries and carpets in rich, blue fabrics hang from the walls and banisters. He spots elegant paintings of boats on oceans. For such a contemporary organisation as SOL Technologies, the party feels dated. Periodic.

He tugs once more at his collar and tie. In the corner of his eye, he sees the first sign of SOL equipment: a video camera tucked into the corner of the building, aimed straight at the entryway. He makes sure not to look directly at it, but once they pass out of its line of sight, he leans into Ryouken and whispers his finding.

"There's one on the other side too."

Sure enough, a second one rests just across from it.

"We're being watched?" Takeru says. "Talk about an invasion of privacy."

"They can't get in trouble if they're never caught," Spectre singsongs, tilting his head from side to side. "Besides, what are they really going to do with all that footage?"

"Something illegal?" Takeru says. "Geez, the more I hear about—"

"Quiet." Ryouken swings a hand out to stop them just as a smartly-dressed attendant appears in a crisp, blue suit. She looks young, perhaps a temporary assistant for SOL Tech. Her outfit even reminds Yuusaku of Zaizen Akira's famous blue three-piece suit.

"Greetings," she says. "Have you all checked into the event?"

"Checked in?" Ryouken echoes. He fixes them all with a stare, and Yuusaku and Takeru ducks their heads back. Spectre smiles widely.

"The event, yes, sir," she says, bouncing her head up and down. "It's here on your menu, just at the corner. Click that and—yes, that's you sorted, sirs. Now." She claps her hands together. "You've dressed for the event, I see, yes, so you'll want to step onto the dance floor or past it to find the refreshment table. You'll find your Token already in your inventory. Thank you very much, sirs, and enjoy the ball."

"Thank you," Ryouken says. He grabs Yuusaku's elbow and pulls him along, down towards the dance floor glimmering like a diamond. Only when they are out of earshot of the attendant does he say, "She knows something is up. We look like our avatars and it's obvious no one in Den City could possibly look like us."

"And ..." Takeru swallows. "That's not a problem?"

With a bounce of his shoulders, Ryouken chuckles. "Of course not." He snaps his fingers together, and between his fingers appears a small, gold coin—the Token for the event.

"We—we got two?!"

"Glitchy system."

Yuusaku wishes he could wipe the smirk off his face—did he have to make the situation so tense, only to knock it down a minute later like a tower of worry? He sticks close to them, eyes scanning every available corner. If the attendant caught the difference, surely someone else must see something wrong with three guests who look exactly like their Link Vrains avatars. Perhaps one of them could pass it off as a similarity—after all, Spectre looks identical to his Vrains avatar. Yet all three of them? Unlikely.

With a soft cough, Ryouken turns to Takeru and Spectre. "Yuusaku and I will be going to the refreshment table first. If anything happens, send either of us a private message—encode it. Don't draw attention to yourselves." He eyes Spectre. "Don't make a fool of yourself—"

"Only if you don't first."

Shoulders up to his ears, Yuusaku glances behind them. Can anyone hear them? Surely they should use softer voices.

"I'll talk to you this evening."

Spectre salutes them with a sharp flick of his wrist. "Have a good night, you two."

"See you!" Takeru says with a wave.

Yuusaku raises a hand to wave back, but finds his fingers enmeshed with Ryouken's. He follows the hand back to the arm, the body, the face smiling softly at him. His cheeks burn with fire.

"Shall we?" Ryouken says.

"Drinks?" His voice scratches in his throat.

"Of course."

The ballroom lights blind him momentarily. Dozens of chandeliers hung from the stuccoed ceiling, decorated with diamonds and pearls and several other clear, crystalline gemstones. Not a breeze brushes through the room. He finds the room  _ stifling  _ with hundreds of other duelists dancing across the slick, blue floor. His dress shoes click-clack on the ground; he can even see his reflection in the shimmer, a pale face staring back at him.

Ryouken holds his hand in a firm grip and guides him around the ballroom, past the dancers braced breast-to-breast and sweeping through the room. Though dressed in suits, each dancer retains their elegance and grace. Fabric rustles, clothes bunch. Murmurs of conversation flitter past his sensitive ears.

On the other side of the ballroom is the banquet tables laden with dozens of warm and cold dishes: meats and vegetables, soups and gravies; sandwiches; every dish in a party cookbook, he imagines. Further down the line, he spots a smaller—but no less extravagant—table with wines and spritzers.

Though lavish, the sight of rich food puts his stomach in painful knots.

"Too rich," he says. "Do they serve regular food?"

"You mean plain hotdogs?" Ryouken rolls his eyes. "I see croissants and bread. Would that suffice?"

"Enough."

They each grab a plate. Ryouken samples each dish; while a terrible cook, he's an appreciative, unpicky eater. Yuusaku grabs three croissants and a scoop of butter and carries it over to the table. The dining area tucks off to the side of the dance floor, comprised of several white chairs around circular tables decorated in midnight-blue tablecloths. A candle rests atop each table, emitting a pale light and a faint, salty smell.

Ryouken tucks into his food at once.

Yuusaku picks at his dishes. Though hungry, he finds himself chewing more than swallowing. His eyes drift to every corner of the room, searching for a camera or figure in the shadows.

A foot bumps into his own.

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"Really?"

"We're sitting around  _ eating  _ at a party that we've snuck into."

Ryouken licks the gravy from the tip of his fork. "And the attendant never bothered us. And she hasn't moved from her position since. And the cameras haven't been zooming on us." He shrugs. "We need to be careful, but not hypervigilant."

Yuusaku stares down at his croissant, flicking the dry flakes from one corner.

"Are you perhaps worried about your identity, so to speak? The reveal?"

He sinks lower into his chair.

"And that, even if you haven't hidden your identity, that someone will come and question it?"

"Who wouldn't?"

"Reasonable."

Blink.

Ryouken cups his cheek in one hand. "I can tell you that your identity is safe no matter what, but the fact does remain that you are here as Playmaker, and I am here as Revolver, and that is as plain for everyone to see. There's no mystery there. So then ..." He sips from the thin flute of champagne. "Are you nervous about us, as our avatars, being seen together?"

"It seems ... risky."

"Is your identity as Playmaker hurt because of being seen with me?"

He bites his lip and winces. "That's not what I mean—"

"I'm not judging," Ryouken cuts in. "I'm not upset or frustrated. I'm patient. Listening." A sigh. "If you don't want to be seen in public with me, especially not at such a public venue, then let me know, or else you'll come across as cold and frankly pissed off."

"It's not that either," he says. "I just ... don't want to risk ourselves here."

He lets out a breath when Ryouken coughs into his fist to hide a smile.

"We probably look even more suspicious sitting around here brooding. Look around: everyone's dancing and enjoying themselves. Who's to say no one else has hidden their identities?"

"Because no one else but the Knights of Hanoi and me and Soulburner hack into Link Vrains?"

"Touche."

Still, Yuusaku finds himself hiding a smile of his own in his napkin. His legs itch to move, and in the blink of an eye, he finds Ryouken at his side, one hand extended. The creases of his suit fold neatly along his legs, waist, and chest, and his face, so close to Yuusaku's, catches the light along his high cheekbones and sharp jaw. He looks devilishly good, Yuusaku wants to say.

Ryouken beats him to the words.

"Playmaker, would you like to dance?"

His hand falls in Ryouken's.

He imagined his first dance would be quieter, with just the two of them in a secluded garden or on the dark beach of Stardust Road. Even more likely would be in the living room of Ryouken's mountain-top house and headquarters of the Hanois. In this scenario, Yuusaku would have been free to slip and stumble without the judgmental eyes of the world around him.

The scene he finds himself in is much different. Swept off his feet onto the ballroom dance floor, he glides along with Ryouken. He's never danced in his life, and judging by the fierce look in Ryouken's eyes as he watches the floor, neither has he. They slip and slide together, bumping chests, clenching hands. More than once they knock foreheads, and so Yuusaku pushes his cheek into the hollow bend of Ryouken's neck and presses their chests together.

A firm heartbeat sounds in his own chest.

"Our identities are safe," Ryouken whispers. He pauses to adjust their dance, slowing their movements to the rhythm of the next song. "I promise, who we are will stay a secret between the two of us ... and those other two, of course."

He blinks, eyelashes dusting the fabric of Ryouken's suit.

"The news is going to be all over this."

"Let them," Ryouken says. "They can't make much of a story over us dancing. We've  _ dueled _ plenty of times before."

The dip in tone makes Yuusaku chuckle, and he presses his lips to the curve of Ryouken's neck. As soon as he feels skin, he stiffens. Contact. Affection. Someone will see.

Gently, he rolls his head down across Ryouken's broad chest as the music ebbs into the next slow song.

Someone will see—but good luck to SOL Technologies if they ever figure it out.


	5. NO SCOPE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for datastorm december day 05: snowball fight

"Playmaker and Revolver—the fated Link Vrains couple." Yuusaku drops the holographic screen down from his duel disk and twists his lips together. "Really?"

"Now you're finding the humour in it," Ryouken says, coming round with two steaming mugs of coffee. At this late hour, with the moon hanging over their heads, they need all the caffeine they can take in.

Yuusaku scrunches his nose up as he accepts the drink. "But really," he continues. "Who reads trash like this? And at this hour? They're posting it up hours before the new event—before we hop online." His eyes widen, breath freezing in his lungs. "You don't think ..."

"That you're overthinking? Never." Ryouken's smile stretches over his face as he settles down next to Yuusaku, nursing his coffee between his firm hands. Though late, he still looks dressed for the day: slacks and a blazer, ever the sophisticated gentleman. Even his hair is dressed neatly around his pale eyebrows and bright blue eyes.

Yuusaku flops back into the sofa with a heavy sigh. Ever since they came home from the party—at a decent hour, mind you—he hasn't slept more than an hour. All evening he tossed and turned, and ultimately he sat out on the chilly balcony and played phone games until Ryouken rose from his princely slumber. It's obvious which one of them got more sleep.

"Let me see," Ryouken says, wriggling his fingers for the duel disk. Yuusaku passes it over with no shortage of huffing and grumbling. He stays quiet as Ryouken reads, but he can't help but sigh or look away whenever his eyes drift to a particularly ridiculous line from the newest web article. He and Ryouken, a lovestruck couple? They're dating, sure, but not prime-time sweethearts ready to make their relationship Link Vrains official. Besides, they've dueled plenty of times before. How different can that be from dancing?

If anything, the article makes him sad knowing that that dance was the only indication he and Ryouken _were_ in love—and he doesn't dare admit that aloud.

After a minute, Ryouken passes the duel disk back, expression even.

Yuusaku shrugs his shoulders. "Well?"

"They're looking for attention, of course." He rubs his fingers through his thin hair, tousling the slight purple hues of his bangs. "I'm honestly not surprised."

He is. This is on the front page of Link Vrains' largest online news website. According to these idiots, this is the top news. Not someone's record-breaking duel, not releases of Vrains-mas' holiday events, not future updates from SOL Technologies. Naturally, he suspects SOL Technologies is a part of why this news around him and Ryouken was published. This is news to catch everyone's attention and draw the spotlight away from whatever SOL is planning to accomplish.

But still!

Yuusaku clicks the screen off with a growl. "We're not some sponsored couple."

"No, we're being followed to discern our true identities." He laughs mirthlessly. "Funny how that happened?"

"Not in the slightest."

Ryouken kicks his heels back and stretches his arms behind his head. The clock before them ticks with each second. Ten minutes to go until the start of the next day. Judging by how rapidly the paparazzi has been on his and Ryouken's cases, they'll likely be bombarded by reporters as soon as they log in for the event. Yuusaku would take a day among a crowd of Playmaker fans than a rare meeting with the press. If they're looking into his private life for such stories, it's only a matter of time before he runs into them.

A slight shift in posture makes his skin crawl. His breath catches in his throat, but before he can say, "It's fine," or "Don't worry," a hand settles on his thigh, massaging his soft skin with its thumb.

"I'm looking forward to the next event," Ryouken says, voice light and airy. "We haven't had any clues so far about what games we'll play next, but I'm imagining a physical sport."

"Hm?"

"If they want to amass popularity among duel fans, all they have to do is create hype. A festival is fun, but a tournament within a festival? That raises the stakes."

Yuusaku raises an eyebrow. "Did Spectre find you a cheat sheet?"

He grins. "Perhaps."

The clock clicks forward with another minute. Nine, then eight. His fingers itch the knees of his pants legs. Though the night stays dark, an approaching darkness filters through the windows and over the carpet. The only light on in the room—a small yellow lamp—feels as dim as the flicker of a candle.

"Are you ready?" Ryouken asks.

"Ready." He clicks his duel disk into place, closes his eyes, and leans back into the sofa. When he opens his eyes, he stands on his own two feet, dressed in the familiar green and black skinsuit. It feels better, more familiar, than the uncomfortable suit from yesterday. Next to him, Ryouken rolls his shoulders under his own skinsuit, still swathed in his ugly sweater. Bits of his hair blow in the late, midnight breeze.

Yet though midnight, the square seems particularly bright today. Lampposts line city centre leaving no pebble darkened. The benches around the centre are occupied by duelists gathered in groups. True, the business has died down from yesterday, and even fewer people have come to the start of the next day's event—but there are still far too many people for his pleasure, and Yuusaku curls into himself.

Ryouken stretches his arms above his head, letting out a soft yawn. "Busy night for us."

Yuusaku rolls his eyes; it's plenty busy for him. The streetlights seem too bright; the chatter rings in his ears. When he thinks of nighttime, he thinks of peace and quiet where he can hear the whisper of his breath in the breeze and the thrum of his heartbeat to the sound of the waves crashing over the shore. At this hour, it should be silent.

He glares at the duelists standing around. Don't they all have ...

Oh.

Oh no.

He ducks to the side just as a head spins around, locking eyes with him, and no sooner has he escaped does he hear him shout, "Is that Mr. Playmaker?"

Naoki. Shima Naoki, an old high school classmate of his who is _obsessed_ with Link Vrains duelists, particularly Playmaker. One time during class Naoki showed him his Playmaker shrine, and Yuusaku dared not ask why there were trophies _and_ tissues next to the display. He can only imagine the shrine—and Naoki's devotion to it—has grown as he bounds across the courtyard, spring in his step, right past Ryouken, and to Yuusaku.

"Mr. Playmaker, I knew it! I saw it on the news and I knew it!"

 _Knew what?_ he wants to ask, but just as he opens his mouth to duck away, Naoki chirps, "I hope we're against each other for the match!"

"The ... match ..." Over in the middle of the square, he sees two image boards. The first displays a leaderboard for various duelists, listing their mushed-up team names, with Datastorm included, along the bottom. These must be the registered teams for the event. Seems reasonable enough. However, the second board displays the match itself: snowball fighting. Included are a short list of rules, namely not injuring or insulting other duelists, and tutorials on how to build and shoot snowballs.

"It'll take place one level below us," Naoki says, puffing his chest out proudly.

It says so right on the screen too.

But Ryouken was right then—this won't be a typical match. It feels more like the first activity they played, only this time they won't be able to slip away during the pre-show and get the Tokens early. They'll need to be in the heat of the match. And based on where their names are right now ...

Lips pinch.

"Go Brave?" Ryouken asks. "Who's that?"

"That's me!" Naoki speaks up. Then he squints at the screen. "A—against you two?!"

Shit. Their team names are connected together by a single, treacherous red line. The first match will be between them. Already, Naoki looks pale in the face, lips quivering, eyes sparkling like a child on Christmas Eve. Yuusaku feels ready to strangle him then and there, but he keeps his teeth in his lip and his eyes downcast. Naoki is simply annoying. Naoki is simply a harmless Playmaker fanboy. Nothing could go wrong from a match with Naoki except maybe a hug attack or at worst inappropriate touching.

Yet even as he assures himself, his mind returns to yesterday's debacle at the party. SOL Technologies is up to something. The press is up to something too. No doubt both of them had a say in his match-up with Go and Naoki, and likely they'll broadcast the fight on live, nationwide television. For all he knows, the two demonic companies could be plotting something to unmask or torment him.

Ryouken slides his fingers between Yuusaku’s fingers and palms; he winces when he feels fingertips rub against the rawness of his flesh. He unclenches his hands and bends the joints like rusty cogs. Then he rolls his shoulders back, over and over again, until he feels himself unwind from his trapping thoughts.

"Our match starts soon, doesn't it? We should go down and prepare ourselves."

He nods his head mutely and lets Ryouken pulls him aside past Naoki. With no words spoken, he has only the back of Ryouken's head to focus on. He says nothing as they head down the side of Link Vrains by D-Board; both of them on a board, Yuusaku's arms round Ryouken's waist, settling against his taut muscles. Even relaxed, he feels solid. Yuusaku is all bones even in this avatar.

They slide down the side of the island and to the next platform, landing on a sculpted winter wonderland. Identical to the top layer decorated for the first event, the island features snow all around and sculptures shaped into duel monsters: dragons, fairies, dragons with _guns._ Though aesthetically pleasing, none of them seem big enough to hide behind. Otherwise, the island has no cover—no tunnels or houses or walls to shield themselves with, unless they are expected to make igloos and barriers before the match.

Under their feet, the snow crunches like hard cereal. Perfect packing snow for the event. He pats the snow together into a small, firm ball and tosses it from hand to hand,

_Whoosh!_

A snowball sails past him, barely skimming his cheek. He drops the snowball in surprise, eyes darting from side to side. Who—

Standing across the yard, Go raises a hand.

"Playmaker. Revolver."

Ryouken chuckles. "Looks like our company has already arrived."

Every muscle in his body stiffens. Unlike Naoki, the lovable fool that he is, Go Onizuka poses a greater threat to them. Built like a Greek Olympian, he stands even taller than Ryouken with muscles carved from mountain rock. Every angle of him is sharp, even his small, pointy head nestled in a bright, knitted hat. A gift from the children, perhaps. Among Link Vrains residents, Go is known for his charity work at orphanages and youth shelters. Most likely he's participating today to raise awareness and funds for his non-profit organisations.

Not that that will stop Yuusaku any.

Go nods his head once to Ryouken and then spins on his heel.

"Hm?" Ryouken raises a thin, slender eyebrow.

"You know what," Yuusaku says. "SOL Technologies. The press. There's something going on here."

"Oh I don't doubt that," Ryouken says with a deep chuckle. "But it's hardly worth my time to worry over it."

"How nice to be you then," he murmurs. His brain hasn't relaxed since before the event. Every breath catches in his throat; every heartbeat misses a beat.

Just as he takes a deep breath to calm himself, wings flap in the distance. Coming down from the other island is a pair of animal-shaped robots. The first one, a frog, has a round, green body and large, pink cheeks, and altogether looks like the sort of character that would belong on a children's television program. Balanced on its head is a small, blue tadpole. The frog's buggy eyes pop out as soon as it spots the duelists gathered on the field and it screeches, "They're here, they're here, Saito!"

Hanging above it is the second animal: a pigeon holding onto the frog, with a camera balanced on its own head. It beats its grey wings to keep both itself and the frog afloat, all the while screeching, "I see, I see, Yamamoto!"

In a mess of metallic limbs and feathers, the two robots tumble down from the sky and land in a heap on the crunchy, snowy ground. They roll together, neither of them losing their filming equipment but probably making quite the mess of themselves and their footage in the process. They dust themselves off with grumbles and then stare up at the duelists gathered round them—or at least, they begin to stare at Go and Ryouken, and then beyond them to where Yuusaku stands off.

"Mr. Playmaker!" they crow.

He freezes. Again?

"Mr. Playmaker, might we have a word with you before the match starts?" In the blink of an eye, they appear _in front of him,_ camera pressed against his nose. He stumbles back, swatting away at them. How—how did they even appear so quickly? But even after knocking them aside, they bounce right back and flutter through the air. This time, the camera stays back enough that he can properly see his pale reflection in the lens.

"Mr. Playmaker," Yamamoto begins, "tell us about your experiences during Vrains-mas?"

"My—"

"Yes, tell us about you favourite day or event!"

"Well—"

They jump on him with another question, then another, until his head spins in circles. Chilly air brushes against his reed, aching cheeks. Mind boggled, he spots Naoki rushing down from the upper island to get in on the scoop too, and further back Go stands with his barrel-sized arms crossed over his strong chest. His heart leaps into his throat as he searches for Ryouken. He doesn't like cameras either, but he'd never leave Yuusaku—

"What a difficult question indeed," Ryouken says, sliding in next to Yuusaku and wrapping an arm gently behind him. The first contact causes him to stiffen, but he melts into the demure touch. On the camera, the embrace will be invisible. Yamamoto and Saito won't even be able to see it, too caught up in their prattling questions.

"Yes, yes," they say in unison, and Saito adds, "And what about you, Revolver? How have you found this event?"

"It has its tricks and treats."

Leave it to Ryouken to say something that has both reporters _frothing_ at the mouth for more. They leap onto his words like rabid animals.

"Tricks and treats, you say?" Yamamoto shifts back and forth in Saito's grasp, uncontrollable excitement fizzling through his metallic frame. "Elaborate, please?"

"It's just a feeling." An eye slides down to spot Yuusaku, head bowed, shoulders bunched up to his earlobes. The hand round his waist tightens. "If you'll excuse us, we have a match to prepare for."

"Of course, of course!" Saito says. "But first—a photo?"

Yuusaku lifts his head just as Ryouken pulls them tightly together like two peas in a pod, chest together, hips connected, barely an inch between their rosy cheeks and bright eyes. The flash snaps in his eye and leaves him momentarily starstruck, and by the time his vision clears, Ryouken has whisked him to the side. His arm remains wrapped behind, and Yuusaku sinks backwards.

"Quite the event," Ryouken whispers to him.

"They went after us first ..."

"SOL Technologies is paying good money for the press to jump on us, it seems." Teeth grinding; even Ryouken must be on-edge from this new twist. A snowball-fighting couple event hosted by SOL Technologies the day after they tried to unmask them. The appearance of the paparazzi on this same day.

"What's the trick for this event?" Yuusaku asks.

"We'll see soon," Ryouken says, and spins them both around as a screen plunges down from the heavens and lands in the snow. Bright fireworks flash and fizzle, and from the sparks appears the matchup: Datastorm versus Go Brave. Naoki's cheering cuts out the first line of the opening message, but he hears the rest of the words that seem to come from a thousand megaphones set out around the virtual world:

_Season's greetings, duelists, and welcome to the fifth day of Link Vrains' Winter Extravaganza! SOL Technologies is pleased to be hosting the first snowball fight for this event with a special matchup from our seasoned Link Vrains duelists: Revolver and Playmaker of Team Datastorm, and Go Onizuka and Brave Max of Team Go Brave. What a delightful day this is—I mean morning, of course, for all you night-owls who have logged in today for this premiere event!_

_Premiere event?_ Yuusaku frowns. Did everyone else in Link Vrains know about today? He can only suppose so as he spots duelists gathered along the perimeter. Many of them sit in bleachers that appeared out of thin air, while others crowd along the front of the field. Everyone nurses hot cups, and judging by their bright, festive wear, there must have been a dress code for this event.

Yamamoto and Saito shoot in front of him with their camera once more in his face.

"And here's our main team!"

Yuusaku ducks to the side, and even Ryouken, normally content before a camera, frowns and brushes the robots aside.

"You're not getting a proper shot!" Yamamoto says. "Fly back, no up—no, get them both in the shot!" With some wriggling and squirming, they hover in the air, camera close but not privacy-invading. Yuusaku cringes as he hears them ask the same questions once more: what's his favourite event.

"This is for the fans," Saito says.

"We'll see how it goes," Yuusaku says, teeth in his lip. He waits with bated breath for them to pounce on him with the next drilling question, but the robots spin to face Go and Naoki. They look like they dropped right out of an American comic book, and when Saito asks Naoki the same question, the response reminds him of a typical _fanboy._

"Well the very best event of all is this match with Mr. Playmaker!"

"And you, Go Onizuka?"

"A match with Playmaker is indeed a special reward for this event."

Yuusaku feels his body close up inside him.

"And there you have it, folks! Our first match-up today and what a special event it is! Now, we'll invite the SOL Technologies interface to return to explain the rules."

With a soft _blip!,_ the computer returns once more, clearing its screen of the scoreboard and presenting a simple, blue interface with the bold initials of SOL.

 _Duelists, gather around for a special event. This snowball fight will be a two-vs.-two match with_ no _audience participation. Duelists must only use the snow on the ground to make snowballs, and must only use their hands and personal strength to launch them; duelists with mobility difficulties, please speak to a SOL Technologies representative for modifications and assistance._

_To score a point for this event, you must hit your opponent. A hit includes the snowball touching any area of your opponent; headshots are allowed. One hit, one point, for a maximum of three points per person. Thus, you must score six points—three hits on each of your opponents. Whichever team wins the match will be awarded the Token. If you win, you cannot participate in the event again. If you lose, you will have another opportunity to play again._

_Please remember to play fairly and safely, and to stay within the track. D-Boards are not allowed for this match._

He eyes the snow on the ground. Thick packing snow, perfect for snowballs, but also for building shields, walls, any sort of barrier to hide behind. However, would they have time to build any reinforcements before Go and Naoki begin targeting them for points?

_Teams, you have five minutes to strategise before the match begins. When the whistle blows, the match starts. Do your best and Merry Vrains-mas._

Yuusaku grabs Ryouken's wrist and pulls him aside, away from the crowd and the paparazzi and anyone else who will overhear. They need to strategise. Something bad will happen here. Something has to go wrong, or else they wouldn't have been the first, prime-time event.

His feet stop in the deep snow. Dropping Ryouken's wrist, he lets out a heavy sigh. Ryouken says nothing, not even a shuffle of his feet or a whisper of his breath.

He drops to his knees, burying his hands in the snow. Ice stings his red fingertips. Back home, he's never played in the snow before. Winter was always the season of staying home all day and playing online games ... though summer was not any different. He doesn't understand _how_ winter can be such an appealing, joyous time of the year when the snow bites at his exposed skin and soaks through his thin outfit. Even as a virtual avatar, he can feel the cold.

"What's your plan?"

"Shields,” Yuusaku says. "Barriers. Walls. We need to protect ourselves."

Ryouken squats down next to him, swirling a finger through the snow. "Or one of us just doesn't get caught."

"Well that's the plan," he says.

"No." Ryouken grabs his shoulder, cold fingers pressing into his frozen skin. Ice on ice—a truly numbing feeling. "I mean, only one of us needs to stay hidden. Even if one of us gets hits thrice, the match isn't over. It's over when _both_ of us are caught."

"Self-sacrifice?" A hollow laugh creeps out of his dry, scratchy throat.

"A shield."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"But it's a possibility," he presses. "The bot never said anything about having to leave the field after three hits. For all we know, I can remain as your shield—"

"Who said you'd be _my_ shield?"

Ryouken's smile stretches across his slim face.

Yuusaku shoves a snowball against his face, only to jump as Ryouken's avatar _cracks_ like a mosaic. Strands of data flicker from his cheek where Yuusaku smacked him with the snow, and even when he pats the area, a patchy spot remains in the coding. He even hears it: the crackle of coding, the whir of Link Vrains' databanks working overtime to process the failing of an avatar.

His eyes flick down to the snow in his hands. Where his sleeves begin are patches, some fizzily coloured, others stripped away to reveal his bare skin.

"Identities." Yuusaku hisses. "They want to unmask our identities ... through the snowball fight."

Ryouken hums in agreement. He shoves his full hand into the snow, watching as his gloves fizzle away to reveal his bare hand. He rubs it up his arm, disintegrating his outfit into the sleeve of his favourite blazer. Yuusaku knows the outfit well—Ryouken was _wearing_ that outfit when he logged into Link Vrains.

"A glitch that rubs away your avatar," he says. "Spectre's code won't work against that."

Yuusaku glances across the courtyard to where Go and Naoki stand, strategising together. Go tosses a snowball from hand to hand, but even if the glitch is affecting him, his avatar is identical to his real-life appearance, much like Spectre. Naoki, however, appears to be suffering from the glitch, yet unaware of the patches on his knees and elbows. He keeps on hopping from foot to foot, performing large, sweeping gestures that vaguely resemble fighting moves. If anything, they look like action shots from shounen anime.

In the audience, no one seems to have caught onto their glitching avatars. If they do, the crowd will likely ignore it. Maybe the snow will cover up some of the marks. But if anyone sees his or Ryouken's faces, it'll be all over.

"I doubt my helmet will help," Ryouken says, materialising it and tossing it from hand to hand. "The glitch seems to eat away at anything belonging in Link Vrains."

"Then neither of us can get hit."

The bell rings loud and clear. Yuusaku jumps, spins on his heel—and a snowball knocks right into his shoulder.

_"And the first point goes to Go Onizuka of Team Go Brave! What a hit indeed—and within the first couple of seconds!"_

Breath hisses in his lungs. Data fizzles away to reveal the grey patch of his sweater, his favourite piece of lounge wear. His eyes widen at the slimmest strands of blue hair. No one should be able to see it, but he can, and panic rises.

He bolts across the field, past Ryouken. He hears the next snowball whiz through the air, but it lands at his ankles where the toxic snow has already chipped away his avatar's boots. He shoves his hand in the snow and scoops up a ball.

Head rises. Eyes narrow. On the field, he sees a _mountain_ of snowballs behind Go. He chucks them one after the other, arms pinwheeling. Of all their opponents, Go would have been the trickiest competitor. He's physically active and a decent strategist, and what he lacks in planning he makes up for in sheer strength. Between him and Ryouken, Ryouken is more active, and even then he only jogs once a week.

Ryouken crouches down next to him, a snowball in each hand.

"Knock out Go or Naoki first?"

"Go for Go," Yuusaku says. Naoki is building snowballs, but that hardly helps Go who can both make _and_ throw snowballs. Yuusaku has had gym class with Naoki before: he barely passed too. His buff Link Vrains avatar belies his wimpy strength and endurance.

A snowball drops into his awaiting hand.

With a slight bump of his shoulder, Ryouken says, "Better get to it then," and charges. He moves like ice across solid water, floating across the track like a warrior risen from the crackly ashes. His arm makes a blur as it swings, so fast that he doesn't even see the release of the snowball, only hears the grunt Go makes as it hits him in the ribs.

_"And a point for Datastorm! 1-1, everyone! This match is heating up!"_

Hardly. They've just started the match and only scored a point each. His fingers sink into the ball in his palm. Prickles of ice seep into his bare flesh. To hit Go, he'd have to move closer; he can't throw from the end of the field. But the moment he moves, Yuusaku knows he'll be an open target. Whether or not Naoki or Go know that he'll lose his identity if he's hit, they both want the Token too. That alone makes them competitive enough to want to win this match.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the camera floating at the perimeter. It hasn't left him and Ryouken, video taping them as if they are a prime attraction. Not once since the match begun has it floated to Go and Naoki, or panned across the roaring crowd. Who knows how many duelists are watching them from the peace of their homes; though early in the morning, the audience seems unnecessarily large for a minor day four event. Deep in his heart, Yuusaku knows something is wrong. Something was planned here.

He ducks as a snowball flies over his head, skimming his bangs. Pink turns to blue, but he doesn't hear anyone comment.

"Yuusaku!" Ryouken says. He knows _exactly_ what that tone means.

Sucking in a breath, he slips to the side. Ryouken's right: they need to take down Go first, and then peg Naoki out with a duel attack. At the moment, Go hides behind a makeshift barrier. Ryouken has built up his own, packing the snow into a small wall no bigger than a single-pane window. He crouches behind in, packing together dozens of small, firm snowball. Most likely Go is behind his own barrier doing the same.

His eyes at the field. There's a line surrounding them, blocking off the audience from entering the field ... but there's no centre divider. No barrier between them.

He can make it to the other side.

Softly, his footfalls crunch on the snow. One step at a time, one after the other. With both Go and Naoki ducked behind the barrier, neither of them should be able to see him—and if they do, neither of them have bothered to scare him away. His breath quickens the closer he gets. Risky. Dangerous.

Necessary.

He jumps up, past the barrier, and decks them both with a snowball each. He suspects them to the ready for him; he suspects them to fight back.

They weren't prepared!

He doesn't wait for the snowballs to hit. He _runs._ Feet kick behind him, pushing up the wet, sticky snow. What once aided him and muffled his footsteps now drags him down and pulls him asunder. Muscles aching, he hurries back towards Ryouken, peering around their own barrier with a snowball raised. Then, over the sound of his racing heart and the slush of the snow, he hears:

"Duck!"

He does, but the snowball still hits him squarely in the back. The area doesn't worry him—all they'll see is his grey hoodie—but he falls forward, slipping, arms fumbling out in front of him.

_"And a hit to Playmaker, bringing this total up to 2-3 for Team Go Brave!"_

_If he hits the snow, will his avatar's face fade away?_

_Will they all see?_

_Will they know?_

At the last second, he swings himself to the side, scraping across the icy slush by Ryouken's hideout. Ice shards slide up and against his uniform. Cold penetrates every bone in his body. The air whooshed from his lungs, he can only cough and gasp as his senses return to him. The first feeling that returns to him is the harsh warmth around his wrist as Ryouken drags him to the barrier. He pulls with all his might, face twisted and red.

"Yuu—Playmaker, Playmaker—"

Yuusaku kicks his legs out, narrowly avoiding a snowball that lands between his legs.

The match is still on.

He makes it to safety, only by Ryouken's pulling. As soon as his back meets solid snow, he lets out a sharp cough, then a fierce shiver. His arms and legs burn, crackling away with his avatar's design. Throughout the crowd he can hear confused murmurs; so no one knew about this particular detail.

"Company." Ryouken shakes him once on the shoulder, a warning of sorts, and then leaps up. He hears two rapid-fire hits, two put-puts of wet, icy snow meeting solid flesh, and then across Link Vrains comes the computer-automated voice: _"Go Onizuka has been disqualified—it's up to you, Brave Max!"_

It strokes Naoki's ego. He lets out a whoop and cheer, nearly stopping to do a victory dance in the middle of the match. What stops him is Ryouken's rapid-fire attacks that Naoki only avoids by ducking behind his own barrier.

"Playmaker."

A voice. A voice calling his name.

“Playmaker, are you all right?"

He blinks his eyes. His surroundings seem so much hazier, as if he's gotten snow in his face. He shouldn't, but he still brings a hand to his cheek. Pink flecks his bangs like the horrid petals of a poisonous plant.

Just past Ryouken appears a flash, one-two, of a camera. Yuusaku ducks his head down as the flash returns. The camera. The paparazzi. The reporters that would hunt him and Ryouken down, that are looking for their identities—

"Playmaker, can you fight?"

His body moves on autopilot. Fingers latch on a snowball, burning in his palm. He launches it through the air, arching it high and far. He doesn't see it land, but he hears it—not the landing, but the resulting, tinny noise.

_"A beautiful hit from Playmaker to Brave Max!"_

He sees Ryouken's smirking face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the twist in his lips, the sparkle of his eyes. Fire glows in Yuusaku's belly.

"After you," Ryouken says, dropping another snowball into his open hand.

The shot would never work twice—nothing ever works twice to begin with—so instead he marches across the field, face pink, bangs whipping across his forehead. Naoki can never seen him, for he'd know in an instant just who Playmaker looks like, but fortunately in the time since the first hit, Naoki has buried himself down beneath the barrier, head tucked between his braced arms.

Some hero.

He almost feels guilty knocking him down.

So he drops the snowball on Naoki's head, and Ryouken, who'd followed after him, does the same. Ringing in his ears is the tinny, electronic voice announcing his and Ryouken's victory, only it sounds cheap, pre-determined, minor in the grand scheme of things.

Once more, he sees the flash in the corner of his eye and he acts on instinct: shoves his fingers in the harsh snow, pats a snowball, and then chucks it at the two animal reports. His shots never hit, much less hit _well,_ but this shot sends them flying like Team Rocket Blasting Off Again, across the field and rolling into the audience. All the attention falls onto the two reporters with their heads spinning and stars in their eyes.

A hand slips into his own.

"Token's there, time to go."

He expects to dart and dash, head back to a private quarter of Link Vrains, but Ryouken has quicker, smarter, and better plans. He taps the interface on their duel disks and the small power key at the bottom: the log out button. It flashes once, just as bright and painful as the camera's flash, and then Yuusaku sees sea, stars, the cream of the couch. He relaxes back on the sofa and melts into the cushions, riding out the last of the anxious shakes in his veins. Even minutes later, he can still feel the chill in his arms and legs.

With a jump, he glances down at his arms. No bruises or changes. The glitch didn't affect his human form then. But as for his nerves, they’re shot to shreds.

“You there, Yuusaku?” Ryouken’s calm, steady voice eases a tremor catching between his shoulder blades. He relaxes deeper into the couch as a blanket folds over his lap. He yanks the cover up to his chin so that only his eyes, glassy green as as wide as the bottoms of bottles, peek out. Playmaker would never be so quiet, so demure, so scared. But Fujiki Yuusaku can be.

“We’ll have to do something about this,” Ryouken says, running his hands through his tangled hair. “They’re getting pushier, so we need to shove back.” He pauses, and Yuusaku hesitates to answer, when a gentle, albeit firm, weight settles against his side. Thick, white locks caress his cheeks, and warm skin nudges his jaw and neck aside. Ryouken settles down into the crevice of his neck and shoulder, one eye glistening from between the white strands.

“But for now, let’s nap.”

“In the moment of peril?”

The weight settles deeper against him. Ryouken’s strong, broad chest expands with a single breath seeming to come from his toes, but that appears only as a gentle wisp of air against his neck.

“We’ve got a bit more time.”


	6. OPEN-WORLD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for datastorm december day 06: lost // gingerbread house  
> got both prompts in here, and -- ahh, this fic is nearly complete!! thank you for all your kudos, comments, and bookmarks! <3
> 
> also i really got into scenery descriptions for this chapter. you'll see ;)

Not even an hour later, he gets a text from Takeru:  _ can i call you pls? _

Not even a second later, his duel disk blares loudly in his ear with the tinny chime of his ringer—the standard tone that came with the model. He's never bothered to change it, and when he does consider it, it's when the ringer is tearing holes in his eardrums.

"Sorry," Takeru says as soon as he picks up, "I should have waited but I didn't—"

"It's fine. What's up?"

"The ... the event—" A sharp rustle echoes through the speaker, now on speakerphone mode. Ryouken scooches closer from his spot on the couch where he'd previously been reading a text on breaking computer software for dummies. He and Yuusaku lean over the device, waiting for Takeru's voice to pick up once more.

They both blink in surprise when they hear someone else.

"Speak  _ clearly,"  _ Spectre says, "like so. Ryouken, Fujiki, the news stations didn't catch your exact image, but they have a blurry shot of it. They're looking for you."

Since they got home, all Yuusaku has done is lie with his head up to the ceiling and contemplate life and all its wonder. Not a productive use of his time, but a chance at repairing some of the stress eating holes in his mind. Now, he feels all those holes sting and burn, re-opening like fresh wounds. He brings a shaky hand to his forehead, and Ryouken's palm settles against the back of his hand, thumb massaging the dry skin of his knuckles.

"What have they found?" Ryouken asks.

"This here." Spectre sends several image files through the chat which appear on the duel disk's holographic screen; even Yuusaku's old model can do basic 3D-visuals and image software. The pictures come out grainy and blurry, mostly from the heavy snow on the field. All of the shots feature him and Ryouken hiding from the snowballs, and when he zooms in closely, on three of them he spots flecks of pink and blue hair, or the trim of Ryouken's jacket. The fourth photo is the most concerning: a hazy shot of Ryouken pulling him away from the field. Snow flecks over his face, but his hair is the most obvious, with two strands of his bangs an obvious blue.

"You can't find someone with that alone," Ryouken says. He taps the images away, and Yuusaku breathes a sigh of relief.

Spectre snaps his fingers. "Facial recognition?"

"Still hasn't been perfected," Ryouken says.

The duel disk holographic screen snaps open once more, but this time instead of shots of the snowball face, it's Takeru and Spectre's face. Spectre looks awake and alert, eyes wide, mouth quirked up in the slightest smirk that sets Yuusaku's teeth on edge. Meanwhile, Takeru looks ready to topple over, as if he hasn't gone to bed since yesterday. 

"So you're saying ..." Takeru chews on his lip. "That the best they can do is ... guesstimate?"

"Unless they've mastered facial recognition overnight, this shouldn't be a massive concern for us."

Yuusaku thinks otherwise, but he holds his tongue and waits for the others to speak. Spectre wouldn't have shown them this information without more concrete theories than possible facial recognition, and judging by his devious smirk, he has much more hidden. Worriedly, he wonders how much could possibly be on the internet already. They can't be the only hacker group to break into SOL Technologies and skim through their personal files; who else has seen those photos?

"Very well," Spectre says at last. He snaps his fingers once more, ringing the sound through the speakers. "I have more for you."

"Theories?"

"Details—about the next activity."

Apparently, Takeru hasn't seen this information either, for he leaps forward as if possessed and shouts, "You've had that information all along?"

"Every single day," he remarks. Then: "What? You thought I was just good at  _ guesstimating?" _

Spectre turns back to them, one hand cupping his strong cheek. "Anyways, you won't be able to steal the Token early for this one—"

"You could do that  _ too?" _

"—as you'll need to navigate a maze of sorts."

His ears prick at the words 'maze.' Throughout the week, they've participated in various activities: physical, mental; all partner exercises, but nonetheless complicated. A maze sounds no difficult than winning a snowball fight, but Spectre's dry gaze holds him steady. There's more. With Spectre, there's always another clue.

Ryouken spots it too. "What's the catch? We're not playing guessing games."

"Or guesstimating games," he singsongs. He nearly gets himself beamed by swinging fists when Takeru lunges once at him, fist ready to drop. Slipping to the side, he adds, "There's not much to know about the next challenge other than it's a gingerbread house outside of Link Vrains."

"Out ... outside?" How can an event be outside of Link Vrains? The event itself, as well as VR Dueling, exists solely in Link Vrains, not to mention the fact that SOL Technologies only operates through their own private servers. Plenty of times other games have tried to host events alongside Link Vrains, only to fall short when the companies decreed it inappropriate to partner with other industries. Since the beginning of time, SOL Technologies has only ever focused on Link Vrains, and the system is virtually untouchable by average citizens. Only Hanois with their precise hacking knw how to break the system.

So measures against the Knights of Hanoi? It wouldn't be the first time SOL went after them for breaking the system.

"I think."

"You think?" Ryouken spits the words out, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "You don't normally throw out such opinions without some prior knowledge."

"Well," Spectre says, drawing out his words, "I'd say it's less likely  _ outside  _ of Link Vrains, and more like outside of  _ the playable areas of Link Vrains." _

"That's not what you said the first time." Tone clipped, gaze icy. "Don't invite misinformation."

All they receive for an apology is a shrug of his shoulders and a short, "My bad."

But still, Yuusaku muses over the thoughts. They've been to various 'new' sections of Link Vrains, such as the top-floor platform with the first Token. In that mission, they were exploring a new area, but when they told Takeru and Spectre about it, Spectre never commented on the strangeness of the location. He doesn't even seem keen to speak up now, twirling a strand of hair between his spindly fingers. Talking to Spectre feels like solving the hardest riddle in the world.

"So outside of the playable area," Ryouken says. "You mean to say they've built a new location?"

"I think."

"You think?"

"I couldn't access it."

A pause. A breath. "You ... couldn't?" Never before has Yuusaku ever seen Spectre not be able to hack into anything. He's certainly not the most skilled hacker—those roles rest with him and Ryouken, and neither of them had thought to break the system to find the next mission—but Spectre likes to produce results as much as any other overachieving teammate, and so he rarely gives out empty information.

"Is it behind a barrier?"

He shrugs.

"A firewall?"

It's Takeru who speaks up, tapping a chin to his cheek. "I looked into it with him too—when I didn't realise what I was even looking into, mind you—but I remember when we found that hidden room in the castle, and we looked in and saw those computers. And they were building something in that room ... a program or sorts, or maybe a special area. I thought it was just for the castle because they had all our information up on the monitors too, but after Spectre and I talked ..."

His voice dwindles off, and Yuusaku struggles to jump of  _ any  _ of the points Takeru brought up. Firstly, Takeru and Spectre talked? And worked together? He thought hell would freeze over before Takeru reached out to an ex-Hanoi, much less Spectre of them all. Though one of strongest friendships Ryouken has, Spectre still has his odd quirks that make him unapproachable to the majority of duelists. Then there's the matter that, in that castle, programmers were creating a separate space inside Link Vrains. In that moment, Yuusaku's mind had been too frazzled to consider any of the information on the screen, much less some game-developing software. All he remembers from that night are the monitors with Playmaker and Revolver’s mugshots. Now, SOL Technologies has blurry images of their  _ actual faces.  _ Spectre's assurance that no facial recognition software exists sounds like a weak bandage over a terrible wound.

He's met Akira before as himself, as Fujiki Yuusaku. If he thought long and hard, or if he thought of outside sources ...

Aoi.

Naoki.

They'd spot his blue hair and recognise him in a heartbeat.

"What else have you learnt?" Ryouken asks. His arms remain firmly crossed over his chest, and other than a small worried bite on his bottom lip, he looks as relaxed as he is in the morning after his first cup of coffee. How he can remain so calm in the face of disaster still surprises Yuusaku.

"That's about it," Takeru says, eyes tilted down to his toes.

"One way or another, if you want that Token, and if you want to get SOL Technologies off your tail, you'll need to face them in that activity."

"It's not the final one though, right?"

"Two more days," Yuusaku says. Technically, they're only on the fifth day's event; there should be more days to go, even though these past couple of days have felt more like years. This final event, the alternate stage, should be for the final day.

"Technically, yes." Spectre holds up two fingers, snapping them together like a pair of scissors. A single, blue eye blinks between them. "But SOL Technologies doesn't want to wait seven days to catch you, I'd imagine, especially since you've evaded their attempts many times. I'd say they're trying to finish you off early. After all, Vrains-mas was probably a plot to unmask you to begin with. SOL is not without a secret agenda."

All along ... all along, this event has been a trap.

Still not deterred, Ryouken presses on. "Will this next event be tomorrow then, or the day after? I hardly doubt everyone will go to this special event."

"There aren't many players left," Takeru says, counting off on his fingers. "But if they are trying ... to trap you." He swallows thickly, as pale as milk. Yuusaku understands Takeru's worry; he wouldn't be participating in this event either if he knew right from the start it was all to reveal two duelists' identities. "They'd probably transport you there."

"Like a secret level then ..." Ryouken rubs his chin, gazing off into the distance. When Yuusaku suspects he's dozed off, and reaches over to awaken him, Ryouken snaps back with a sly smile. "Then I think, just this once, we should get caught—"

"Wha—"

"Not to unveil ourselves, but to get their guards down, if for just a moment. They're suspicious of us. They know we're onto something. Why not toy with them a bit like lambs in a slaughterhouse, not knowing they are the prey and we are the predators." A fierce glint catches in his fiery eyes—the look of a cyber-terrorist, of the Ryouken Yuusaku once saw across from him as they raced down Stardust Road. He shivers at the image.

Spectre drums his spindly fingers on the coffee table, and though he's across a screen, the noise sounds close to Yuusaku's warm ears.

"That's about all I have to report," Spectre says. "Keep your guards up—SOL Tech seems out for blood."

An indignant cry sounds over the speakers, and then, from Takeru: "Don't scare them!"

"You scared too, Soulburner?"

Ryouken clicks off the video chat with a soft chuckle. Briefly, the screen remains, reflecting their pale faces. While Ryouken looks like he rolled out of bed god-style, Yuusaku sees the dark lines under his own eyes even in the shadowy reflection. He even feels tired, a feeling otherwise unknown to him. He's pulled plenty of all-nighters and never suffered this creeping, draining feeling. The warmth of lying next to Ryouken fails to ease his jumping nerves.

After the screen disappears, Ryouken remains silent. His fingers slip through Yuusaku's hair, straightening the rough, blue and pink locks. He brushes his bangs from his forehead and slips a gentle kiss over his brow, as tender as one would kiss a baby.

"Even this event needs a partner," Ryouken says.

"I never said I wouldn't accompany you."

"True." A pause, just long enough for Yuusaku to tilt his head forward and see just what is preoccupying Ryouken's next words. "But I can tell—clearly tell—that this is worrying you."

He huffs out a breath, rolling to the side. An arm drapes over the side of the couch, fingers curling in the plush carpet. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ryouken shift down just enough that his chin rests along his shoulder, balanced on the firm, albeit pointy, bone.

"I'm fine," Yuusaku says.

"Are you?"

"Fine enough."

He hums under his breath. "And should I, knowing this, invite you to come with me to challenge SOL Technologies?"

"Ye ..." The words fade from his lips.  _ Yes,  _ he wants to say, because no one wins with inaction, no one wins by letting the enemy come after them. And yet, in the face of SOL Technologies, he is immobilised. Frozen. Frightened beyond comprehension. These past few days, he's fought wave after wave of terror, feelings of being watched and examined. He's checked under his bed for monsters, scoured all of Link Vrains for hidden cameras and microphones. Never before has he felt under such painful, scrutinising supervision. Worst of all, he knows his actions are correct. He knows his fear is valid. He doesn't need Ryouken to say, "It's all right," or "I'll protect you." He doesn't need coddling; he's coddled himself enough, wrapped up to his chin in their thick, corded afghan blanket, tucked against Ryouken's firm chest. He's spent enough time wading in these toxic feelings.

"I want you to know," Ryouken says, trailing fingers lightly down his side, over his ribs and hips, "that you are still brave even when you are scared. That you are still a fighter even when you are paralysed."

Another huffed breath. "Pep talk?"

"To my lover," he says first, and then: "This week has been difficult for you. I can tell. And I can't tell you to give up and stay under this blanket, for that will only encourage SOL Technologies to take such drastic measures to find us. But ... if there is anything I can do to ease your worry, do let me know. I don't want to see you suffer because ... one, it hurts me, even if you are not meaning to cause me harm, I worry for your worry; two, I cannot help you unless I know, for simple guesswork won't ease these feelings ... and three, because I love you, and how else can I show my love when you are frightened?"

"But we can't get out of this ..."

"Correct. But there must be something we can do, even something little, to help you."

"Hold my hand."

Wordlessly, Ryouken threads their fingers together.

"A long time ago ... I wanted this ... something soft ... something to hold ... back then ..."

Ryouken doesn't reply. His chin remains on his shoulder, his other hand resting on the curve of his bony hip. He doesn't move until Yuusaku does, when at last he can take a proper, deep breath and slide himself up from the couch. He fumbles for his and Ryouken's duel disks, both resting on the coffee table. The eerie screen sends a shiver down his spine, but just as the shiver runs down the length of his arm, Ryouken squeezes his palm, just once, and the fear disappears.

"Shall we go?" he asks.

Yuusaku squeezes his hand back.

They tap into Link Vrains, booting up the systems. Once more, the mechanics swirl and twirl around them, and briefly Yuusaku sees the main plaza. But then the system cuts off, no longer the idyllic view of Link Vrains, but the black loading screen.

Any other time, he's grumble,  _ maintenance problems?? really??  _ But he holds his tongue. Something is wrong here.

He spots Ryouken standing next to him, dressed up as Revolver. Nothing looks suspiciously off about him, save for the deep slant of his eyebrows and the thin line of his lips. He sees something wrong too then.

A bright screen pops ahead of them, as tall as a ten-story building and brightly decorated with snow and ribbons and holiday paraphernalia. In large, loopy letters across the top reads the logo "Link Vrains-mas," and beneath it, "A Winter Holiday Extravaganza hosted by SOL Technologies." Just as Yuusaku finishes reading the title, and has yet to get a grasp on why this screen, and not the rest of Link Vrains has appeared before him, the electronic voice inside the system bursts to life.

_ Greetings, duelists!  _

_ Please sign into your account. _

Yuusaku blinks. The only time he's even had to sign in was when he first got Link Vrains downloaded onto his disk disk and he had to build his avatar and deck. Since then, he's only ever had to enter Link Vrains through the disk. No logins, nothing.

A bright, red button flashes before him.

_ Please sign in. _

"They don't make their traps that ... inconspicuous," Ryouken says, muffling a laugh into his fist. "And here I thought the challenge would actually pose a threat to us."

Normally, he'd mutter,  _ Very funny,  _ or some other snarky reply, but his throat feels drier than a desert, his eyes glued to the painful flash of the button. This—this is it. The hidden stage. The secret location where SOL Technologies plans to unmask them.

And they're supposed to walk into it?

Once more, Ryouken takes his hand.

"Three reasons to remember. Three reasons to believe.

"One: to protect our identities.

"Two: to protect our relationship.

"And three, to protect each other."

_ Click. _

The black screen fizzles away, and whether they move or the world moves, Yuusaku doesn't know. But when the first glimmer of light pierces his eyes, he snaps them closed and only opens them when someone tugs his body to the side. He tumbles into a wall, rocky and slightly crumbly. All around him, he hears the clicks and clacks of machinery, gears turning, levers wheeling. He sounds like he's in a factory.

Closed.

His eyes are closed.

He snaps them back open. They've wound up in a truly magical place, were it not for the foreboding dread that they were once in empty space, only now to be transported to a children's fantasy. Walls made of gingerbread and floors made of chocolate, they've wound up in a gingerbread house. His fingers itch the graham-cracker walls, studded in places with thick, albeit hardened, icing sugar. Along the walls are various windows made of frosted sugar, or paintings made of floss and taffy. Above his head, he sees an incomplete roof, parts made of gingerbread, and others M&Ms.

The sounds, he realises, are the construction noises. Machinery, also made of candy and desserts, swing around rock beams and bags of jelly beans to use in various places around the house ... only, now that he looks more closely, the area resembles a mansion or castle. The ceiling arcs high over his head.

"They've been working overtime, I see," Ryouken says. "I hardly doubt SOL Technologies built this overnight." He steps out, only to be roughly pulled back. Yuusaku clings to his hand.

"Cameras," he hisses. “And … us.”

Their avatars have fizzled away like sugar in warm water. They look like everyday citizens one would see in Den City. Or at least, he does; Ryouken looks like a Hollywood star. The surprise at seeing Ryouken’s face—his regular face—only surprises him for a second. Yuusaku holds tightly to Ryouken’s hand. Especially in the human forms, they can’t be seen by anyone.

"Wise call." 

They press against the wall, eyes scanning the corners. Nowhere does he sees any hidden devices—though then again, if they are hidden, he shouldn't be able to see them in the first place—nor does he hear any human or AI voices. As he peeks round the corner, he spots the machines' repetitive moments. Most likely, they're controlled by non-sentient AIs that wouldn't have video recording features.

"What do you suppose ... this all is?"

Ryouken doesn't reply, teeth in his lip.

To Yuusaku, this looks like a gingerbread castle, or at least the makings of one. Out the foggy, sugar glass window, he spots empty space—no ocean or land in sight. This place must exist in its own vacuum dimension, outside of Link Vrains' general areas. The mansion itself looks familiar, reminding him of a fairytale palace. SOL Technologies is infamous for 'borrowing' coding and features from other virtual games. In all likelihood, he could have seen this exact same structure in a half-dozen other games.

If he's honest with himself, the gingerbread mansion does bring a smile to his face. It smells of nutmeg and cinnamon in here, with the faintest scent of peppermint coming down the hall. The air even tastes sweet from the sugariness all around him. If he didn't know he was trapped in some SOL Technologies nightmare, he would have liked this place. A bit too bright and busy, but homey. Friendly. The sweet-tooth in him would want to bite into the walls just to assure they are made of gingerbread.

He slides along the wall, further down the hallway until he hits a solid, oak door, chocolate moulded into the shape of a door. He rests his hand on the gold handle, surprised when the taffy-like colour doesn't stick to his gloved hand, or that his glove doesn't disintegrate like with the snow. He flicks his eyes to Ryouken before he opens the door, and then peers through the entryway.

A foyer. They've been in the upper chambers of the palace, but beneath them, he sees a  _ glowing  _ palace floor. Connecting the two floors is a white-chocolate marble staircase with slick, caramel-yellow bannisters. Etched into the handrails are small, sparkly gems that must be hard candies. There's not a single person in sight, nor any signs that someone was once wandering these halls. Not even any non-sentient AIs roam these quarters. Yuusaku holds his breath and waits for someone to burst through the large, chocolate front doors, but they remain firmly closed.

Well.

"Do they even know we're here?" Ryouken asks. A beat later, he answers his own question: "They must know we accepted that false login."

Cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck. He hasn't seen a single camera, hidden or not, but that only raises the stakes. They aren't looking hard enough. They need to be warier.

"Should ... should we go downstairs?"

Over his shoulder, Ryouken smiles warmly. "I think so."

As carefully as he can, he steps onto the stairs. The marbled chocolate remains as firm as proper wood or marble would be, but he still clings to the slick bannister as he heads downstairs. The main foyer appears even grander from the main floor: a vast, open room lined by tall, white pillars. Bits of blue catch in the shadows of the walls and pillars, but no gaudy SOL Technologies banners or posters hang on the walls or from the ceiling.

Ahead of them, the entryway stretches into a large gathering area, the sort of space one would use to host a party. Their boots click-clack on the smooth floors, shined so brightly they can see their reflections gazing back at them. The walls here stretch up to immense heights, easily past the second floor. Up on the ceiling are etched designs, scaffolding or stucco, made from whatever sweet treat was used as a moulding for the palace. Several chandeliers hang by sturdy, black-licorice chains. They appear made of taffy with hard candies set as the candles.

"What a place," Ryouken says, stretching his arms out wide.

Yuusaku nods, eyes flickering across the room to the wall.

"We've been here before."

"Hm?" Ryouken spins on his heel, coattails fluttering like petals. "Before?"

"Before ... at the party. This place ... it's the same palace."

Reaslisation dawns on Ryouken's slim face. He doesn't reply at first, eyes flickering around each corner of the room: the chandeliers, the ceiling, the open hall. At the dance, they never saw the upper levels, so they wouldn't have recognised their surroundings when they first appeared, but down here in the foyer and reception room, he spots the similarities as clearly as he would recognise his lover's face in a crowd. There's no mistake that they'd wound up in a candified version of the same palace out on Stardust Road.

"You are correct," Ryouken says. He rubs his chin, a slow, steady smile spreading over his face. "Good work,  _ Playmaker." _

His name, rolled of Ryouken's lips, sounds like a dirty word whispered into his ear.

"Must you say it so ..."

"But then," Ryouken continues as if he hadn't been flirting, "what can we make of that discovery? Why are there two castles, one on Stardust Road, and one in this alternate space?"

It doesn't make sense why there would even be two in the first place. If SOL Technologies was a  _ competent  _ company that didn't take shortcuts and cause server-wide glitches, they wouldn't rehash their old ideas for the same event.

"A clue perhaps?" Yuusaku says.

"From the party," Ryouken finishes. "I don't remember seeing many clues, unless you count our exploration of the basement."

"We never found anything down there," Yuusaku says. "Well, anything  _ good ...  _ but maybe the programmers are down there too." Were he Ryouken or Spectre, he'd burst down the basement door and rush into the room, take on the world and then some more. But as Yuusaku, he remains frozen in the foyer. If there are programmers downstairs, he and Ryouken are in danger. They're not dressed as their avatars; they're plainly Fujiki Yuusaku and Kougami Ryouken. With no masks to hide behind, if they get caught by a single hidden camera, it's over for them.

"We won't know unless we check," Ryouken says.

As if that's a reason to put themselves in danger.

"We can't even log out, anyways," Ryouken adds.

"W-what?"

Holding up his duel disk, Ryouken points to his main screen. All the buttons are there, but the power button, often illuminated, is dimmer than an old coin. "Bet the game doesn't even recognise we're  _ in  _ Link Vrains."

"Faulty tech," Yuusaku mutters. He sighs noisily, hands braced behind him. The decision already feels made before he can begin to  _ consider  _ it, yet he knows, one way or another, they have to find their way out. Indecision won't save him.

Like an angel's touch, Ryouken's hand slips into his own.

"Shall we go?"

To the basement. To the finale.   
  
Let's, he tries to say, but words fail him, so he squeezes Ryouken's hand and leads him through the halls they once graced, through the entryway that stunned him into silence. They were here, once before, as avatars with their faces hidden, identities stowed away like luggage. Each step towards the door sends his heart into his throat. Beyond the door, what lies in this fabricated world? What final treat has SOL Technologies planned for them?    
  
The encore, he wants to call it.   
  
The end of the road.


	7. CHEESE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for datastorm december day 07: found
> 
> (also the reason the chapter is called cheese is bc in gaming lingo it refers to unforeseeable strategies that players users in-game, and you'll see why it oddly fits for this finale ^^)

Yuusaku doesn't know what he finds creepier: the saccharine-sweet candy castle behind him, or the empty wasteland before him. Past the palace is blank space—no land or sky or sea; no data to fill the blanks. Stretching out from the palace walls are tufts of grass that make a short courtyard, and then the world flakes off. He stands with his toes on the edge, wondering what might happen if he  _ does  _ leap off into the space. Will his avatar stay? Will he be destroyed?

Empty space. Not even SOL Technologies knows what can happen out there.

Fortunately, he and Ryouken have a much more important mission than discovering the properties of voids. They wander around the side of the castle, following the faint trail along the perimeter. He keeps his eyes open for any movement on the roof, but out here, he only hears two footsteps, two heartbeats, two breaths. They're alone in this alternate reality, perhaps without even SOL Technologies aware of their existence. Surely they should be arriving by now on their D-Boards, or destroying their avatars from the inside out.

It seems too easy when he thinks about it.

At the back of the castle, they find the slip in the wall. Ryouken shoves his fingers between the cracks and opens the secret passageway. Rather than be candy-coated, the walls appear to be made of thick, grey concrete—the same walls as the original secret passageway. A single metal staircase spirals down into the belly of the world. They walk forever, neither of them speaking a word, until they land in the basement.

"Looks like the same place," Ryouken says.

Several passageways spread out from the main room like legs on a spider. There are no markings or distinguishing features, not even a sign saying where the bathrooms are located. Each hallway looks like it leads straight, but Yuusaku remembers, when he and the others wandered through the corridors, that the paths veered sharply to the side, and at times seemed to rise and fall to other levels of the house. If he had paid more attention that day, he would have remember what path led to the mysterious computer room Takeru spoke of; but even if he made his best guess, he feels no surer about his choice.

"No cameras around," Ryouken says with a decisive nod. "And unless someone's hiding behind one of those doors, I bet we're the only ones around."

They shouldn't be. Why would SOL Technologies' computer system bring them hear but not inform its programmers of their arrival?

Just as Yuusaku opens his mouth to say, "Should we just pick a path?" he hears footsteps. Loud, vibrating footsteps. However, unlike the steps he heard at the party, all those years ago that in fact was the event from two  _ days  _ ago, these steps rumble behind them.

The steps.

"Someone's coming," he hisses, and before Ryouken can say a word, he yanks him down the hallway. Anywhere seems like a good option now. He charges down the centre path and yanks open the first door. Locked. The second door. Locked too. He tries each door, shaking the handles until they jingle and jangle, until one of them opens. It doesn't matter what room it is, so long as no one is inside it. He goes in first, pulling in Ryouken with him. On instinct, he shuts his eyes; his fingers fumble to close the door, to switch on the lights, to find his bearings—

The footsteps stop.

Not because the stranger stopped on the stairs but because they reached the basement floor with its cold, concrete surface. It should still make a slight noise, but over the sound of blood racing in his heart, Yuusaku can't hear a thing.

"Head down," Ryouken says, and this time he takes control, guiding Yuusaku down under the desk in the nearest corner, tucked into the shadows. Vaguely, Yuusaku remembers learning about such measures when he used to hide in his house, afraid that anyone who came to the door would take him away to that horrible torture chamber. He used to wait for them to bash down the doors, so that, if he hid in the nearest corner, not across from them, the kidnapper would have to turn their head to the side and peer into the darkness.

He and Ryouken hide in much the same way. Tucked into the corner, they fold into themselves like boneless dolls. Yuusaku throws an arm over Ryouken's head to hide his sparkling, white hair. They keep their heads down and peer through their legs pulled up to their chests. His mind screams to run more, further and faster, but his body remains frozen in fear.

_ Tap, tap. _

Not close. Not far either, but not coming down the hallway. They must have chosen the correct path.

Still, they don't move, not until the sound fades away. Then he counts down from 300, dragging each number out for good measure. Still no footsteps.

Only when he reaches zero does he carefully bend himself out of his cramped position. His legs are locked, he finds, after he tumbles out onto the cold, concrete floor. Bits of dirt scratch his cheek and he winces. With the grace of an angel, Ryouken sweeps him up onto his feet.

"What a surprise."

"Not funny."

Ryouken doesn't make a joke; he doesn't even seem to have it in him, face the colour of milk and breath ragged as if he ran a marathon. For even Ryouken to become shaken up by such an event makes Yuusaku's anxiety rise.

"This isn't the same room we once peeked into, is it?"

Though he doesn't remember much of that moment, not in his panic of staying undercover and not getting caught, this room looks wider. He could pace in this room and get ten steps before he would have to spin. Hanging on the wall are computers screens stitched together like a complex hacking unit one would see on the set of a television show. Only one basic keyboard sits on the small, wooden desk. Not a piece of paper or pen in sight, or a file cabinet containing personal documents. 

"Can't be," Yuusaku says once he's seen a fair share of the room.

"Do you think there would be information on this?" Ryouken's eyes fall on the computer.

Panic runs through his chest. If they logged into the computer, would they be caught? Does SOL Technologies  _ want  _ them to hop onto the computer? This could be part of their horrible unveiling machine: lure them down into the basement, chase them down the hallway, entice them with the fancy computer.

"Overthinking?"

_ "Thinking,"  _ he says, a bit more sharply than he intended. "I just ... don't want to mess up."

"Neither do I," Ryouken says. He reaches across and squeezes Yuusaku’s hands once, then heads for the computer. Unless there's a camera lens embedded into the monitor's  _ screens,  _ he sees no recording or photographing devices. Instead, all the screens are black until Ryouken waves his hands in front of them, toggling a small, white cursor.

Already logged in.

"This does seem a bit suspicious," Ryouken says, holding his hand. "But let's see what's here."

No personal files. No files of any kind, or documents or photographs. The computer is as wiped clean as one from a factory reset, with only three programs on the hard drive: internet, Word document, and webcam. Of all the programs, only the webcam seems suspicious.

"Click it."

A new window pops up. The camera isn't on them, fortunately, but on another room in what appears to be the basement. No candy in sight. Instead, two plastic-backed chairs face the camera. Both of them have various straps attached to them, and panic rises in his chest. They—they didn't actually plan on  _ locking  _ anyone in those chairs? He sees no one in that room, but likely SOL Technologies is still out looking for them.

"This is an open webcam," Ryouken explains, tapping his fingers to the screen. "It's unlikely we're the only people seeing this image. Someone else should be around here."

"Here?" Yuusaku says, a note of worry creeping into his tone. He'd much prefer not to see anyone down here, especially not whatever strangers were wandering through the corridors. He still strains his ears to hear any approaching footsteps, the foreboding tap-tap of sole on pavement.

"Doubt it or else there'd be more people down here, possibly even in this room. I doubt SOL Technologies even knows we're down he ..."

He falls silent as the cursor shifts. Yuusaku doesn't spot it at first, and when it moves the second time, he thinks little of the motion.

Ryouken's swallow echoes in the room. "I'm not moving it.”

He braces himself for the opening of the door, the charging of the people, the loss of their identities. He freezes on the spot, awaiting whatever peril greets him. However, the cursor only moves to the programs bar and selects Word. A blanket canvas stares back at them. Then words appear, not from the bouncing keys of their own keyboard, but from whoever is communicating with them from the other side.

_ what sugary bullshit world is this? _

Pauses. Frowns. The small, black letters stare back at him like a cryptic message from a teenage gamer. What does this even mean? Are they meant to read these words together, or separate? Who wrote them this note? Someone else trapped in this alternate universe?

_ anyways, i hacked in. hi. _

Slowly, Ryouken slides the boxy keyboard towards himself and types:  _ who is this? _

_ THREE GUESSES. _

Yuusaku feels his heart hammer in his chest. How much does this person know about them, about their special three things? His gaze flicks to Ryouken who looks ... happy? Smirking even, with his sharp canines peeking out of the corners of his mouth. It's certainly not the expression he expected to see seconds before he expects the door to burst open with SOL Technologies' cyber-police.

_ Haha, very funny, Spectre,  _ Ryouken writes back.  _ Now tell us how to get out. _

"Spe ... Spectre's here?!"

"Apparently," Ryouken says at the same time Spectre types,  _ you win a prize!! check your duel disks for the reward! _

Another cryptic message. Hr hardly has time to ask, "Just what does he mean?" when his duel disk buzzes to life. The log off button remains firmly grey, and no e-mail or notification appears on his home page. Sighing noisily through his nose, he opens his mouth again, this time to ask just what is actually going on, when he freezes.

Ryouken is back to his Revolver outfit, complete with his visor that tousles back his red-streaked bangs. He looks every bit the intimidating Knights of Hanoi leader with his white skinsuit, boots, and gloves, dabbed in places with red and green. A long, white cloak stretches down his back and flutters even in the still air. Best of all, his bullet earrings remain. Ryouken affectionately twirls one between his long fingers, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

"You clean up well," he rumbles to Yuusaku.

His avatar outfit has returned too: the unspectacular green and black skinsuit stretching over every inch of his lithe form. He flicks his hair in front of his face, pleased to see the locks brightly pink and yellow; exactly how they should appear in Link Vrains. For a moment, the fear of being trapped in Link Vrains' alternate universe basement seems more like a minor concern. So long as they're their avatars, they're safe. No one can discern their identities, not without avatar-changing software. And ...

_ I've locked out any SOL interference with either of your avatars' designs. They won't even be able to disintegrate them like before, and I doubt they're competent enough to come up with some new virus in the next couple hours to counter the firewall I've put around your accounts. Enjoy the anonymity, you two. _

Ryouken chuckles deep within his throat.  _ Thank you,  _ he types back.  _ Do you happen to know where we are? _

_ no. _

_ Then how come you know we're on this computer? _

_ Because you're the only SOL Technologies employee actually doing their work. I hacked into their personal server and went snooping through all the computers. Sure, there are some overachievers writing lines of code, but I know that's not you. If you're anyone, you're the two toying with the webcam trying to hide your identities. _

"He thinks of everything," Ryouken says, shaking his head.  _ How do you know your program worked then? _

_ how come you have such little faith in me?  _ A pause.  _ SOL Technologies will know about this chat though, I bet they already think I've hacked into their system and wandered into some private territory. They're probably headed your way now. _

Right on cue, Yuusaku hears the sound of a thousand footsteps. More people are coming, faster, down the stairs, down the hallways, straight to them—

"We're bringing an audience," Ryouken says. He spins back to the computer, and the next message on the document bursts from his fingertips.  _ Get us out of here in five minutes, Spectre. Don't be early, and especially don't be late. _

And with that, Ryouken spins back. Yuusaku watches the computer for a snarky one-liner from Spectre, but the little typing bar flicks on and off without another letter. The entire text remains; obviously, neither Ryouken nor Spectre are worried about anyone seeing their chat.

The footsteps near, harder than before. Yuusaku hears the change in sound, from the feet on metal stairs to the feet on cement. He wishes he had to strain himself to understand what is going on, but he knows. He knows, and every muscle in his body tells him to run. Hide.

Gently, Ryouken takes his hand. "Five minutes," he says. "We have five minutes to face them. Five minutes to make a scene before the cameras they bring. Five minutes to trash our identities if we so wish—and then we're out of here."

"Why not now?" Yuusaku has to ask.

"Because I'm not running away from them."

He would. He'd stay as far away as he could from SOL Technologies and their identity-uncovering devices. Who knows if Spectre's program will work against anything they're up against? Who knows if what is charging down the doors is SOL Technologies, or perhaps a fiercer, more deadly enemy? He hardly knows up from down; how can be possibly discern anything to do with the havoc they've been in all week?

"Remember when you chucked a snowball at their faces?"

"At whose?"

"At the reporters."

He remembers, though when Ryouken says it, it sounds far more daring and dangerous than his blind-panic swing. He was frightened and aimed at the first target he saw. He wanted the cameras out of his face, just like he'd been inching away earlier that day. It wasn't a heroic gesture, more like an act of self-defense and dumb luck that the same throw hit  _ twice,  _ yet his heart can't help but bubble when Ryouken keeps speaking.

"I want to be brave like that too—punch them in the faces, wreck the fear they've drove into us, humiliate them in front of the entire virtual and real worlds. This was supposed to be a wonderful wintry week for the both of us, but I'm afraid it's only dragged us both into some terrible paparazzi ploy. I never meant for this to happen. I doubt you'll even get that special card you wanted."

"I bet it doesn't even exist," he says. "And don't ... worry ..."

"I'm not worrying, Yuusaku," Ryouken says. How his words slide like honey off his tongue, Yuusaku never knows. But he tastes honey on his lips when Ryouken kisses him, light and mild. The moment disappears as soon as it appears, no more than a brief press of the lips, but the buzzing feeling stays just long enough to ride out the first zap of fear when the door opens.

Saito and Yamamoto topple in like toddlers caught up in their shoelaces, tumbling pell-mell-tumble-bumble over each other like the worst-prepared paparazzi reporters in the world. Their buggy eyes spin with spirals as they untangle themselves from each other's legs, arms, and feathers. The sight seems almost anticlimactic to the terrifying footsteps Yuusaku heard. Just what could that have  _ been?  _ Then he sees, just behind them, the camera.

The camera, hanging by its cord,  _ dragged through the room by said cord,  _ and suffering visible damage to its body and lens. Scratches litter the surface, and a small, albeit  _ visible,  _ scratch cuts over the lens. They must have dropped the camera down the stairs and then dragged it through the hallway, no doubt tumbling into each other in their panic and hurry. Yuusaku almost wishes it was some worse criminal blocking their path rather than these unprepared pawns. He was expecting SOL Technologies. He was expecting Zaizen Akira. At the very least, he was expecting more than two people to come after them.

Did SOL really plan this event so terribly?

Ryouken taps his shoes to the floor. Once. Twice.

The two robots throw themselves together, hiking back up to full height with Saito carrying Yamamoto with his claws, and Yamamoto hanging by his shoulders. The camera, once discarded on the cold cement, now rests in Yamamoto's hands. He holds onto it for dear life, as if never wishing a single scratch more.

Yuusaku doubts it even works.

"So this is what SOL sent us?" Ryouken says. He laughs outright, strong and deep and channeling his inner cyber-terrorist. The two robots begin to shake; obviously they remember the Tower of Hanoi disaster from several years ago. "Playmaker," Ryouken then says, "what can we make of these pitiful creatures?"

Internally, he rolls his eyes. Leave it to Ryouken to ham it up here, in the big moment they've been waiting for. Leave it to him to make  _ fun  _ of this terrible situation they've found themselves in. All week they've been hiding from SOL Technologies. All week they've been worried.

And now?

He even feels like laughing too.

How ... just how does SOL or these robots expect to uncover their identities like this? Transporting them to this nightmarish candy realm without their avatars was a power move, but now this?

"Is the camera rolling?" Saito hisses to Yamamoto. "It better be—"

"It is, it is!"

"Then let's go! Playmaker, Revolver, we—"

"I don't think my question was directed at  _ you,"  _ Ryouken says, turning sharply to the robots. His voice cuts through the room, snapping their beaks and lips shut.

He realises then: Ryouken is talking to him. Ryouken is  _ asking  _ him.

"How could you try to steal our identities?"

So low, whispered to the silent winds storming around the castle. Saito and Yamamoto raise their heads, clearly having not heard him the first time.

So Yuusaku says it again.

_ "How could you try to steal our identities?" _

"We—we we were paid—"

"My identity is  _ my own.  _ I choose it. I control it. I manipulate it. I show it to who I want, when I want. It's not yours to take. It's not yours to reveal. Who I am on Link Vrains is the me you get to see: Playmaker, the top duelist in Link Vrains. But my true identity? That is  _ mine,  _ and you are not privy to that information."

He spits the final words out. Lips wet, he swallows back the next retort. How much did he say? He doesn't even remember all that he  _ did  _ say, only that it had his heart race and his throat burn and his entire existence feel  _ alive  _ for the first time all week. He can breathe again. Think again. The paralysing fog has lifted from his mind.

No one is coming for him.

No one who could pose a threat, that is.

With a soft clearing of his throat, Ryouken speaks up. "We all wear masks: some clear, some hidden, but what is behind that mask is not for everyone to see. Sometimes we keep our masks up. Sometimes we hide behind our masks. Sometimes we leave them up because we like them, and sometimes we leave them up because we're afraid what people will think when we take them down. But it's not up to you to unmask us, unveil us, reveal us to the world. Playmaker is right: you aren't privy to that information. And for that, we will not stand aside and let this continue any longer. SOL Technologies, if you're watching, this is your last warning. Don't you ever hurt us again."

Yuusaku hears a  _ click,  _ and his heart leaps into his throat as he imagines floating away and out of this terrible world. But instead, the click comes from the barrel of Ryouken's gun—a weapon he drew from who knows  _ where.  _ Glass shatters across the room. Yamamoto drops the camera in surprise, further spreading the glass on the pavement.

"Don't you dare," Ryouken says.

Then Yuusaku hears the click of the duel disk and his body tumbling back into itself. He winds up on the couch, the same place he feels he's been sitting in all week. Sweat drips down his back and over his face. With shaky hands, he wipes at his brows and eyes. For just how long was he logged in? 

Next to him, Ryouken settles back with a chesty chuckle. "He got us out."

Spectre's already gloating about it. Ryouken's duel disk pings like a ball bouncing between two narrow walls; over and over comes the slight chime ringing in their ears. The messages explode all over the holographic display until Ryouken swipes them away with a tired hand and settles deeper into the couch.   
  
"Duel disk, mute."   
  
Waves. He hears the waves first, slowly and steadily brushing against the stones down below. If he stepped out on onto the balcony, no doubt he'd see the peaceful nighttime air. Though it's 01:00, the air is particularly peaceful today, the water placidly resting with the stars brightly painted in its surface. Stardust Road looks properly like a road rather than a mess of white speckles in frothy waters. All week it's been stormy.   
  
A hand slips behind him. Fingers settle on his rough hip bone.   
  
_ Bing! _ goes Yuusaku's duel disk.    
  
_ Yuusaku!! check out the news!!! looks like someone just got BUSTED! _   
  
At the sight of the word "news," he stiffens, only to choke out a laugh. Busted? He has to see this, no matter what mental state he's in.   
  
Sure enough, trending across every social media platform are smears on every part of Link Vrains, from its faulty system to its poor handling of its event to its useless reporters and programmers. Gamers, duelists, and general social media activists have banded together even at this early hour to wage war on SOL Technologies' 'Seven Days of Link Vrains-mas' holiday event, calling it a jumbled mess of false promises and faulty software. Most of the insults are true in some shape or form, but further down the list, from a particularly revered duelist called "Spectre" is the following message:   
  
_ "Builds an entire event to expose a couple of duelists? It's more likely than you think. #LeaveItToSOL." _   
  
Leave it to Spectre to cause a server-wide uproar.   
  
Peeking over his shoulder, Ryouken only laughs away. His head settles in the crook of Yuusaku's neck, hair tickling his chin. The white spikes feel softer, even between his sweaty fingertips. Yuusaku toys with one strand as he scrolls through the remaining messages. There are pages upon pages of complaints and accusations. SOL Technologies might even be facing legal charges for orchestrating such an event—and of course Spectre has screencaps of it all.   
  
He's basking in the attention.   
  
Not a single mention of his or Revolver's names though. To his surprise, while there are complaints of identity reveals, these accusations mainly come from duelists announcing their avatar changes during the ball and blaming SOL Technologies for not handling this matter sensitively ... or not handling it at all.   
  
"Anonymous once more."   
  
Gently, Yuusaku flicks him on the nose.    
  
"I'll get you a special card," Ryouken continues. "Or hack into SOL Technologies and make you a special achievement: I Survived Link Vrains-mas. It wouldn't even be that hard."   
  
Tempting, he thinks. The loss of achievement and rare card were the only reasons why he joined the event in the first place.   
  
"Or ..." Fingers trail up his ribs, around his arm, up to his chin. A gentle grip pulls his head down to meet Ryouken's sparkling blue eyes. "How about a late-night ride? No more virtual world tonight. Just the two of us out on the calm waters."   
  
_ I’d like that,  _ he wants to say, but he moves without the words, pulling Ryouken up with him. With the two of them on Ryouken's D-Board, it's cosy but not uncomfortable, and once out of the house and in the air, he appreciates the closeness. Warmth settles around him like a second skin and he leans into Ryouken as they glide out onto the starlit waters.   
  
Not a person in sight. Not a sound to be heard over the lapping waves and panting breaths that create their own, peaceful melody.   
  
Yuusaku presses his cheek into the firm muscles of Ryouken's back and breathes deeply.    
  
"Merry Christmas, Ryouken," he whispers.   
  
"Merry Christmas, Yuusaku."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the finale! it's technically no longer the 16th in my time zone, but it's the 16th somewhere so it counts! 
> 
> anyways, as some of you may know, i'm the moderator for Datastorm December. my first hosted event! i had such fun, and i especially enjoyed writing this fic for the event! i often lose steam during events, but i powered through this one and even wrote this entire chapter today! thank you everyone for your kudos, comments, and bookmarks! please feel free to tell me what you thought of the fic!
> 
> Merry Vrains-mas and Happy Holidays, everyone! <33  
> \- Lily


End file.
